Haste
by Qwara
Summary: A little white lie...murmurs of a rumor...the regret of a lifetime...and haste will set it all into motion. P&P AU.
1. Sweet Little Lies

**Chapter One: Sweet Little Lies**

Every day, a person makes a hasty decision. Whether their quickly-drawn conclusions are the wisest, only speculation can determine. But what is certain is that even the smallest lie or the flightiest decision can change the entire course of someone's existence.

A small change at one place in a complex system can have large effects elsewhere—this is what is called the butterfly effect. What life would someone have lead if they had said or acted differently? Would it be for the better or for the worse? And how could someone's actions affect the existence of others?

Yet, all of these questions are not answered when one makes haste. Logic is thrown to side in order to satisfy what seems sensible at the moment.

The Netherfield ball brought on deep disappointment for Elizabeth Bennet. Her new favorite, Mr. George Wickham, had been absent. She was tired and vexed; and relieved to have changed into her night clothes and sprawled out among the warm linen sheets of her bed. She wrapped her shawl around her and stared absently into the ceiling. She could not help but be disgusted with the manners of Mr. Darcy towards her favorite gentleman—and what did he mean by asking her to dance? She let out a deep breath, deciding that she was too exhausted to speculate about such things. The morrow would bring its own challenges.

A knock on the door to her bedchamber caused her to rise, resentfully, as she called out her consent for her visitor to enter. Discussion of balls after their end was a common ritual between Elizabeth and her sister Jane, though she had hoped that it would be deferred till the next day. But, to her surprise, it was not her elder sister who entered; it was her mother. Despite the wearying festivities, she had a smile across her face; Elizabeth invited her to join her on her bed; an invitation which she gratefully accepted.

"You look pleased, Mama," observed Elizabeth. She reached for a hairbrush lying across her pillow and began to comb her hair idly, waiting in vain for her mother to announce whatever happy and trivial news that she had undoubtedly come to inform her of.

"Oh! Yes; very pleased indeed. Of course, why shouldn't I be? Jane and Mr. Bingley are practically engaged you know."

"But that is not what you came to tell me, as I'm sure we all noticed that," replied Elizabeth with a small smile. Despite the absence of Mr. Wickham, she could still rejoice in that her sister would undoubtedly soon be made a very happy woman. Her happiness for her sister was overflowing, though she could not help being slightly envious of her having found such an agreeable partner.

"How very intuitive of you, Lizzy! You see, I have just spoken with Mr. Collins, and he intends to make an offer of marriage to you! Imagine, Lizzy; you will have a comfortable home, and be quite constantly in the company of the amiable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and you will know that your dear Mama will be very pleased having two daughters married."

Elizabeth felt uneasy. She had suspected that Mr. Collins had some inclination towards her, though she had dared not bring up the subject herself. She was well aware that the first priority of her mother was to have all of her daughters well-married and certainly vain arguments that she did not love him would be not at all convincing. She opened her mouth several times to speak, but could not think of which words would make her most convincing.

"Lizzy? Are you not very happy? Surely there can be no reason for you to be displeased, unless you are in love with someone else, but I hardly think that the case."

Elizabeth felt it absolutely necessary to speak now, and, without putting much thought to it, abruptly replied,

"I am in love with someone else."

"Oh dear! Are you, indeed? This does complicate the matter quite inconveniently. Of course, you are in love with Mr. Wickham. You know, I really think he fancies you as well—and a redcoat, too!—but, be reasonable, Lizzy; his wealth is certainly not equal to Mr. Collins'. I hope you are not _very_ much in love with him; certainly I would agree to have such an amiable son-in-law, if it were not for the current situation. Do you not see my logic?"

"I am _not_ in love with Mr. Wickham," said Elizabeth, quite truthfully. Though she certainly think that Mr. Wickham was one of the friendliest men of her acquaintance, she did not believe herself to be in love; and there was no sense in lying about it, since it did not seem to deter her mother's wishes.

"Are not you? Then who, may I ask, is the object of your desire?"

Elizabeth sat in silent contemplation at this question; who could she be in love with that would convince her mother to allow her to reject Mr. Collins? He would have to be wealthier than him, certainly, since she had only heard her speak fonder of Mr. Bingley; and she, unfortunately, knew a limited number of rich men.

"Why—I—Mr. Darcy," she stated, attempting to look satisfied with her words. It was a gross falsehood; that she could be in love with Mr. Darcy was absolutely ridiculous; but after her quick calculation, it seemed that he was the only man eligible enough to defer her mother's newfound fondness for Mr. Collins.

"Mr. Darcy? Is that so? I can't believe it! So disagreeable—oh, do forgive me! Of course, he's not so bad. And you did dance with him at the ball, didn't you? Certainly, certainly; I wonder why I did not see it before. And he is very rich; richer than Mr. Bingley, I dare say! This is very agreeable! I'm sorry that I did not like him better, Lizzy; you must call on him tomorrow, and invite him to dinner. Which dish is he fondest of? Do you think that he will propose very soon? I hope that there is some partiality on his side—"

Feeling incredibly awkward with her mother's speech, she felt that she had better interrupt her.

"Don't worry, Mama. It is as certain that we will be engaged as it is certain that Bingley and Jane will be. I tried to keep it such a secret, of course, since I knew you all disliked him so much; but I hope that you can look past his—well—pride." She began to feel sufficiently satisfied now; and her own story seemed to make sense, even to herself. Mr. Collins would look elsewhere for a wife, and her mother would be exceedingly disappointed, but not blame her dear daughter, who did everything in her power to catch a rich husband, when Mr. Darcy did not propose. The lie became more agreeable to Elizabeth with each passing moment.

"Look past it? For ten thousand a year, I would look past just about anything! And if you really love him, it should not matter what I think. But poor Mr. Collins!—Oh, he can marry Kitty or Mary. But not my dear Lydia, of course; she can do much better than a clergyman. I'm very happy, though, Lizzy, very happy! You sly thing! What a good joke, to keep your love for Mr. Darcy a secret all this time!" As she spoke, she left the room, and once the door was closed, Elizabeth let out a sigh of relief. She would be saved from marrying Mr. Collins, and have her mother be exceedingly jolly in belief that she would have a daughter wealthier than Mr. Bingley. She hoped that her raptures, however, would calm down, since she really didn't want her mother crying to the world that she was to marry Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth chuckled at the very thought of being at _his_ disposal, and fawning over him like Miss Bingley. It would all straighten itself out; and she could look back on it all with a laugh.


	2. Mr Collins' Bride

**Chapter Two: Mr. Collins' Bride**

The sun was high in the sky, and the day was as pleasant as November days could be. Elizabeth was taking her usual daily walk around the village, admiring the various views which she had seen countless times, and hoping that her mother had forgotten about calling on Mr. Darcy. She recalled the inattention that she had received from Mr. Collins at breakfast, which she could only look on with pleasure. All expectation of her marrying him was now out of the question, and she had never been happier with a lie than ever before. She flattered herself by thinking that she had acted very cleverly; however, her happy reverie was interrupted by crossing paths with her youngest sister, Lydia.

"Lord, Lizzy! I should die of embarrassment, shouldn't you?" she exclaimed upon catching her sister's eye. Elizabeth could not guess what she was alluding to, and asked,

"What has happened that is so embarrassing?"

"Have you not heard? Mr. Collins has made an offer to, of all people, Mary! And—I know you will never believe it, but it is true—she has accepted him! I suppose they will do each other well, since they are both very dull. But to think that she should be married before all the rest of us! I blush at the very thought of it, don't you, Lizzy? Kitty and me were talking, and saying how very shameful it is that neither of us should be married first, since we try the hardest after all."

Elizabeth smiled at this proclamation; she could not help but pity Mary, but supposed that her sister's disposition was better suited for his than hers would have been. She supposed that the attachment on either side could not be very deep; and though she wished that she could think as well of the situation as Jane probably did, she still felt a little sorry that she had indirectly caused Mr. Collins' proposal.

"Is that so? Well, I—"

"Do you not find it all very diverting, Lizzy?" interrupted Lydia, not paying the slightest bit of attention to her sister, and rather looking off in some other direction as if observing a spectacle.

"Very diverting," replied Elizabeth unconvincingly, and then turned around to see what it was Lydia was looking at, to see that Mr. Collins and Mary were walking down the lane, arm-in-arm, apparently in deep conversation. They were passed by a lady in a blue cloak, who seemed to be approaching the house, and when she came close enough that her features could be defined, Elizabeth instantly recognized her as her good friend Charlotte Lucas.

"Charlotte!" cried Elizabeth, leaving her youngest sister to observe Mr. Collins and Mary alone and running up to Charlotte to embrace her.

"My dear Eliza! Dare I ask why it is that Mary is being so—intimate—with your cousin?" responded Charlotte, looking sideways at the two in question. Overhearing it all, Lydia could not help but announce the news herself, since it gave her great pleasure to do so.

"They are _engaged_, Charlotte! Who would have thought? Why, I just told Lizzy now, and I dare say she was very surprised. You should have seen the expression on her face! You would have thought she expected Mr. Collins to be in love with her. Oh, but they will do each other very well; I imagine that they'll sit in their bookroom all day and read."

Charlotte smiled, though Elizabeth sensed that it was insincere. Elizabeth immediately dismissed any ridiculous idea of Mr. Collins being in love with _her_, or vice versa; and she then showed her guest into the house, where they called for some tea and seated themselves in the drawing room.

"So," began Charlotte, lifting her teacup from its saucer, "your sister is to be married to Mr. Collins?"

"I believe so, unless Lydia has lied to me," said Elizabeth, eyeing her friend. It did not seem that she spoke with indifference, and looked almost pained. "You seem troubled, Charlotte. Is something the matter?"

With another, forced smile, Charlotte replied, "Not at all. I could ask the same about you; you are not quite yourself, are not you?"

"If you suppose that I was in love with Mr. Collins, Charlotte, you are mistaken. Lydia is quite silly. But I will not share my secrets if you do not share yours."

"Ah! You know me too well, Eliza! Well, I suppose I must tell you now: I had thought that Mr. Collins intended to propose to me."

"To _you_, Charlotte? What on earth would make you think such a thing?—Excuse me—I mean, that I never noticed him singling you out."

"Oh, think no more of it. It is not important, and I was not in love with him. I shall die an old maid after all, but I suppose it will be no great surprise to my family. I have little hope of finding a husband, you know, at seven and twenty."

"You and I both!" added Elizabeth, and she and her friend shared a laugh, though it was slightly uneasy; as much as both would have liked to admit that they did not need husbands, the truth was that they both wanted one eventually, though the latter sooner than the former.

"Now, Eliza, it is your turn," said Charlotte.

"Mine is of no great matter either. It is only that, last night, my mother informed me that Mr. Collins did intend to propose to me. Of course, you also know my disposition well enough to realize that it would be impossible to accept him. So I—well—persuaded my mother otherwise. So I feel that there can be no real attachment at least on the gentleman's side, and do not wish my sister to be unhappy."

"Surely Mary had thought over the possibility thoroughly, since I imagine that she does quite a lot of thinking; she would not have accepted him if it would have made her unhappy. He is a respectable man, with a parsonage of no mean size in Kent. Be happy for her!"

"You are right, of course. Now, shall we play some cards?"

Charlotte agreed, and they opened up the card table; and the remainder of her friend's visit consisted of talking of indifferent matters, and they parted considerably happy. Elizabeth could not help but feel the perverseness of it all—that Mr. Collins had intended to propose to Elizabeth, though he had been especially attentive to her friend, and actually proposed to Mary. But it was all done with now, and she could do no more than impatiently wait for Jane and her mother to return from Meryton.


	3. Marriage and Gossip

**Chapter Three: Marriage and Gossip**

Mrs. Bennet returned from her visit to Meryton in high spirits; there was undoubtedly no end to the pleasure which she would receive from informing the other neighborhood ladies that she had one daughter engaged and two others very soon to be. Nothing could dampen her spirits, and her enthusiasm was almost too much for Elizabeth to bear. Mary could not help but boast of her good fortune; it was absolute bliss for her to have finally outdone her sisters in something, since she had neither beauty nor taste to her advantage. Mr. Collins insisted on their marrying very soon, since he did not wish to displease Lady Catherine by being too long without a wife.

"I am very happy for them," said Jane when she at last had a moment alone with her sister, away from the raptures of their mother or extended speeches of Mr. Collins. Elizabeth picked up her needlework and smiled.

"I wish I could think so well of every situation as you, Jane. I'm rather inclined to think that neither is in love with the other."

"That cannot be so, Lizzy! Why would Mr. Collins propose if he was not in love, and why would Mary accept? And surely you listened to Mary at dinnertime, as she was praising him to the skies."

"Mama told me only last night that Mr. Collins intended to marry _me_; and I rather believe that Mary hoped to inspire envy in us, rather than she felt Mr. Collins seriously encompassed everything that she described him to."

"Inspire envy? How can you think so ill of your own sister? But he really did mean to propose to you? Mama must have been mistaken."

"She was quite certain," Elizabeth assured her sister.

"Well, I am inclined to believe that he must have felt obligated to propose to you since you were older, though he was really in love with Mary all this time."

"But then why did he not propose to you?—Oh, it is not worth arguing over.—you can believe what you like, and I shall continue to think of their marriage as I did before."

"Very well, then. But Lizzy, I have been wondering this ever since Mama hinted it to Lady Lucas when we went to Meryton earlier today—is it true that you are in love with someone? Mama painted him to be a very rich, eligible sort-of fellow. But I have no idea who it is she speaks of!"

Elizabeth colored slightly, and hoped that her mother had not been spreading such gossip all day. It would certainly be shameful it was circulated around that she was in love with Mr. Darcy! Certainly he thought very little of her, and what sort of news would that be to him? And that it was not true! And Mr. Wickham, whatever would he think? It would be absolutely embarrassing, and she regretted not having made her mother assure her of her secrecy.

"Lizzy? Are you all right?" asked Jane, observing her sister's discontent. Elizabeth looked up, unsure of how to respond to Jane's inquiry. Surely it would be painful to lie to her dearest sister, but could she really approve of the lie which she had told her mother?

"I have no idea where Mama got that idea from. It must be some worthless rumor that she picked up from one of the servants, no doubt."

"No doubt," replied Jane, though looking very suspicious of her sister. However, it was much to Elizabeth's relief that their tête-à-tête was interrupted by the arrival of Lydia and Kitty, who had also come to escape the cheery uproar which the rest of the household seemed to be in.

"Lizzy, Jane," said Kitty as they sat down on the sofa, "will you not go on a walk with us? We've had quite enough of Mary and Mr. Collins."

"Oh Lord! Yes, do come with us. If I hear another word about Lady Catherine de Bourgh or which kind of roses grow in the hedgerows, I might just have to hang myself. I could dearly use the fresh air as well," continued Lydia.

"And we might meet an officer during our walk," added Kitty with additional excitement.

The two elder sisters agreed to this idea, finding it all-together agreeable, and left the house, deciding to walk the lane which headed towards Meryton. There was still enough light in the sky to see easily, and though it was a bit chilly, the temperature became very tolerable after having walked about for a while. Kitty and Lydia mainly gossiped about soldiers and soldiers' wives, and Elizabeth and Jane said very little, both distracted by their own thoughts. Elizabeth was worrying about what her mother had told others concerning her 'love' for Mr. Darcy, and Jane was probably daydreaming about how good of a kisser Mr. Bingley was. It was very ironic, then, when they happened to cross paths with the two gentlemen who were the object of the two eldest Miss Bennet's reveries on their walk.

Upon their meeting at a small footbridge which stretched over a small stream, Mr. Bingley looked slightly pale, for what reason Elizabeth could not imagine, and Mr. Darcy looked as taciturn as ever. The Miss Bennets curtseyed in greeting, though it was very apparent that these were not the men which either Kitty or Lydia had hoped to encounter.

"Are you well?" said Elizabeth civilly, after several moments of uneasy silence.

"Wha—oh—yes," replied Mr. Bingley, though looking rather distracted. Elizabeth satisfied herself in believing that he was extremely distracted by Jane's beauty. Mr. Darcy said nothing at all, except glancing at Elizabeth oftener than anyone else in the party, which made her wonder if the gossip had traveled so quickly that even he was aware of it.

"Were you coming to call on Jane, Mr. Bingley?" asked Lydia, with a mischievous glance at her eldest sister.

Before the addressed gentleman had an opportunity to reply, Kitty quickly added,

"The ball at Netherfield was spectacular! I do not think I have ever danced for so long, or had so much white soup. I hope that you will throw another one soon, no doubt?"

Elizabeth noticed that Jane was glowing with admiration for Bingley, which he could, undoubtedly, not ignore; but she could not help but blush at her younger sisters' obnoxious behavior.

"Kitty," Elizabeth snapped quietly.

"Excuse us. We have urgent business," said Mr. Darcy, speaking for the first time, and then bowed and departed with his friend. The Miss Bennets could not help but wonder at Mr. Bingley's uncharacteristically uncomfortable behavior; and Jane especially looked disconcerted. They then headed off towards Longbourn in the opposite direction as the gentlemen had.

"I believe that Mr. Bingley had come to propose," whispered Elizabeth to her sister, "but could not muster up the courage."

"Do you?" replied Jane, imitating her sister's low tone, with her voice full of hope. "I own that I thought something worse had happened. I was going to ask if his sisters were well, though they left so suddenly. Certainly something was wrong."

"I would think little of it," Elizabeth assured her sister. They then returned to their previous silence, though the two eldest Miss Bennets were not quite so happy as when they had quitted Longbourn. Jane's head was full of what could be wrong with Mr. Bingley, as she could not flatter herself as much as her sister could flatter her, and Elizabeth could only hope that Mr. Darcy would leave Netherfield quickly, before word got round that she was supposedly head-over-heels for him.


	4. Jane's Letter

**Chapter Four: Jane's Letter**

It was settled that Mr. Collins would leave Longbourn on Sunday as scheduled, and return in a fortnight to be wedded to his fiancée. Neither Mrs. Bennet nor Mary could speak enough of Mr. Collins' merits; Lydia and Kitty were tolerably happy for their sister, though only because they would no longer have to listen to her moral extracts or boring concertos once she was gone, and frequently mourned the loss of having lost the opportunity to be the first of the Bennet girls married off. Mr. Bennet had little to say on the subject, except that he could not conceive a better son-in-law; and though Elizabeth could detect his sarcasm, Mary chose to look past it and found it inspiration to comment on something of Mr. Collins' assets. Every other sentence that Mrs. Bennet spoke had something to do with her good girl Mary having saved them all from destitution, since it seemed that she was her new favorite child.

"You know," said Mary at breakfast, a few days after Mr. Collins had left, "my dear Mr. Collins tells me that Lady Catherine would recommend that you all come to Kent around Easter. You could all meet her and her daughter then, and Mr. Collins tells me that Mr. Darcy and his cousin always come to stay at Rosings around that time."

At the mention of Mr. Darcy, Mrs. Bennet could not resist smiling broadly at Elizabeth, who insincerely returned it, though with not half so much enthusiasm. Mrs. Bennet, therefore, was very much in favor of the idea; however, Lydia and Kitty were as displeased as Elizabeth with the scheme, for they had discovered that any place that was not brimming with officers was not a place worth visiting at all. The rest of the conversation went on as usual, lingering on any compliments of Mr. Collins or his patroness, and listing the price of numerous pieces of furniture in Rosings, even though Mary was yet to see the place.

"It really must be charming," concluded Mary, "since my Mr. Collins, you know, never exaggerates anything, so it is very much paying a compliment to the place by having procured his good opinion."

Elizabeth could have laughed at this; and Lydia actually did, which earned the latter many a scornful look from Mary and her mother. She had never seen her sister speak such nonsense! She could have wished for her to return to her tedious studying and incessant piano playing rather than have her be influenced by the ridiculous Mr. Collins.

After they had all quitted the dining parlor, Jane and Elizabeth were discussing how much they really fancied the idea of visiting Hunsford, when a servant entered with a letter for Miss Bennet.

"Thank you, Hill," said Jane, seizing the letter at once after she glanced at the address and saw that it had come from Netherfield, and began to read it eagerly. She seated herself as she read, looking increasingly troubled and distraught; and when she had finished, Elizabeth was fearful of her bursting into tears.

"What is the matter? What does it say?" asked Elizabeth, her voice full of concern and solicitude.

"Caroline Bingley has just written—and—oh, they have all left Netherfield! They will be gone by now!" cried Jane. Elizabeth felt guilty for the relief which she received in learning that Mr. Darcy had left Hertfordshire, till she realized that she would also have to put on a facade in front of her mother that she was equally disturbed by such news when word got round about it.

"Surely they cannot be gone long? Why, they will return in a fortnight, will they not?"

"It seems that they will be gone the whole winter. I had known that something was the matter when we saw Mr. Bingley the day after the Netherfield ball on our walk! It must have been very serious business; but that is not what troubles me the most."

"Is it not? Oh, my dear Jane, what else has she written?"

"Mr. Darcy is impatient to see his sister, and to confess the truth, we are scarcely less eager to meet her again. I really do not think Georgiana Darcy has her equal for beauty, elegance, and accomplishments; and the affection she inspires in Louisa and myself is heightened into something still more interesting, from the hope we dare to entertain of her being hereafter our sister. I do not know whether I ever before mentioned to you my feelings on this subject, but I will not leave the country without confiding them, and I trust you will not esteem them unreasonable. My brother admires her greatly already, he will have frequent opportunity now of seeing her on the most intimate footing, her relations all wish the connection as much as his own, and a sister's partiality is not misleading me, I think, when I call Charles most capable of engaging any woman's heart. With all these circumstances to favor an attachment and nothing to prevent it, am I wrong, my dearest Jane, in indulging the hope of an event which will secure the happiness of so many?"

Upon her finishing reading that passage, Jane was very silent.

"_I_ see how it is, Jane. Miss Bingley sees that her brother is in love with you, and wants him to marry Miss Darcy. She follows him to town in the hope of keeping him there, and tries to persuade you that he does not care about you."

"I cannot believe that, Lizzy. I know Caroline Bingley to be incapable of willfully deceiving anyone; and it is no wonder that they prefer Miss Darcy, for they have known her longer. It is much more likely that Mr. Bingley never cared for me, than Caroline to have lied about it all."

Jane then allowed Elizabeth to read over the entirety of the letter; and, once she had finished it, put it down and said,

"There is no reason for them to _not_ wish their brother to marry you other than our lack of fortune. In fact, you must have been correct initially, Jane: that some terrible business has forced Mr. Bingley to go to London, and that he will return as soon as it is settled, and that all of this nonsense about Miss Darcy is simply the work of Miss Bingley's imagination. I will be very much surprised if he is not dining at Longbourn again in three weeks."

Elizabeth's words seemed to comfort Jane a bit, though Elizabeth was still skeptical that Mr. Bingley's sisters or Mr. Darcy did not have anything to do with their separation. It made the prospect of visiting Kent at Easter even more disagreeable; but there would be no arguing the point with her mother, since it would be exactly contradicting the sentiments which she had made her mother believe that she had felt. It was difficult, especially for Jane, to keep her spirits tolerably high for the rest of the day, since she did not wish to interrupt the cheerful atmosphere of the household in light of Mary's betrothal. Elizabeth was barely less eager to keep the news of the departure of the Netherfield party a secret, since she knew not what embarrassing remarks her mother would make about both herself and Jane on learning that her two prospective son-in-laws were no longer there to court her daughters.


	5. The Wedding

**Chapter Five: The Wedding**

The day of the wedding had arrived; and all of the Bennet girls were thankful for it. Mary longed to be joined with her beloved Mr. Collins, and the rest only wanted to see as little of their new brother-in-law as possible. It had also been settled, much to the dissatisfaction of half the household, that they would all visit Rosings in March, since Mr. Collins informed them that Lady Catherine was especially insistent upon it.

Elizabeth waited impatiently in the small chapel for the bride to approach; she and all her sisters were bridesmaids, though the only one who had really become one willingly was Jane. Elizabeth held a small bouquet in her hand limply, glancing through the rows of pews till she found where Charlotte sat, and smiled at her. She then shifted her gaze towards the front, where Mrs. Bennet was chatting excitedly with Lady Lucas, though it seemed that the former was much more animated than the latter. There were few who were truly jealous of the Bennets; Mr. Collins was not terribly wealthy, and what with the departure of the Netherfield party, it seemed that their misfortune outweighed the advantages of an eligible marriage.

The music began, making Elizabeth aware once more of her surroundings, and Mary began to march ceremoniously down the aisle. With her hair in ribbons and curls, and her dress surprisingly elegant and flattering, she was probably the least plain that she had ever looked; Jane had chosen the dress, and it truly complimented her eldest sister's good taste. When they had ordered the clothing, Mary had initially chosen a horrid ugly dress, which Lydia abused nonstop till she was persuaded to decide on another one.

"I can't _wait_ till this is all over," murmured Kitty to Lydia.

"Did you see that Captain Denny came? He's sitting in the back! Look!" replied Lydia, though not quite so discreetly.

"Shush!" hissed Elizabeth, and the youngest Miss Bennets quickly straightened their posture, and gazed absently towards the direction of the bride and bridegroom.

The remainder of the ceremony was nothing extraordinary, and almost all of the guests at the wedding were excessively glad to proceed to the small reception which was to be held afterwards.

"Well," said Charlotte, "you look very pretty, Eliza."

"I thank you. Mama recommended these; she was poring over the choices for hours. But I must say that I still worry for the conjugal felicity of my sister," responded Elizabeth.

"I would not worry so. It is a very eligible match, you know; and marriage is not so much about love as you would like to think."

"Perhaps, Charlotte, I am too romantic; but I believe that it is _more_ about love than you suppose."

They were then interrupted by none other than Mr. and Mrs. Collins; and, after the two friends gave their congratulations to the young couple, Mr. Collins said,

"Yes, I have been made the happiest of men! There is in every thing a most remarkable resemblance of character and ideas between us. My dear Mary and I seem to have been designed for each other."

"So are you leaving for Kent directly?" asked Charlotte with indifference in her tone which Elizabeth believed to be rather forced. Surely she was not so very depending on Mr. Collins proposing to her? It seemed incredible that her friend could have formed any sort of attachment on such an absurd man.

"Yes, yes! Hopefully we shall meet again Miss Lucas, which I dare say we undoubtedly will; and of course, Cousin Elizabeth, I will see you when you come to Kent in the spring."

"Aye; I will miss all my sisters dearly, certainly—they do make for very interesting subjects to study—and my pianoforte. My dear, you will purchase one, will you not, for we have no instrument of our own," added Mary.

"Directly, love! But till then, I am sure that Lady Catherine will allow you to use hers; she is all affability and condescension, you know."

And, with such discussion, they thus left Charlotte and Elizabeth to themselves. Both walked towards the dining parlor, to refill their punch glasses, when Elizabeth could not help but overhear a conversation between her mother and Mrs. Long.

"I am so happy for my dear Mary!—But, it _is_ such a grievous affair that Mr. Bingley and his friend have quit Netherfield. My two eldest, you know, were very distressed by the news; neither could leave their bedchambers for a week, I dare say. They have been used _abominably_ ill."

Elizabeth was, at first, amused by the thought of her and Jane so distraught by the departure of a few gentlemen that they would be made physically ill; but she then became alarmed, once she realized what her mother was implying.

"Both of them?" asked Mrs. Long, intrigued and eager to gain new intelligence.

"Oh! Yes! My dear Jane and Lizzy were quite in love, you know."

"So, they were _both_ in love with Mr. Bingley?"

"Both in love with Mr. Bingley! Of course not, Mrs. Long, how could you even suggest such a thing? My Lizzy and I, you know, are on the most intimate terms, and she did not hesitate to tell me that she was mad in love with—"

"Mama! Come, look and tell me your opinion of—of—the flower arrangements," interjected Elizabeth, looking absolutely exasperated. This did not fail to catch the attention of Charlotte, who was staring at the scene in wonder; but Elizabeth was only anxious to silence her mother.

"You already _know_ my opinion of them, Lizzy, for I was the one who arranged them, do not you remember only this morning? Oh, but I must forgive you, for you are surely absent-minded and lovesick. Why, I was just telling Mrs. Long of this terrible business of Jane's and yours! I must say that I am quite grieved as well," replied Mrs. Bennet, looking overly solicitous and speaking in a tone gentler than usual.

"I told you that in confidence, Mama," replied Elizabeth bitterly, biting her lower lip.

"I am sorry if I have upset you, my dear. But of course, I was only telling Mrs. Long because she would be especially sympathetic, you know, since one of her nieces was recently disappointed by another young man."

"Miss Bennet, do not fear what _I_ may think, for I believe I already know. Mr. Bingley disappointed your sister, and that Mr. Darcy has also abandoned you! But you know, we always new him to be so very proud and disagreeable; I am really not surprised by it," said Mrs. Long with an untrustworthy grin.

Elizabeth, overcome with humiliation, quickly excused herself and quitted the room, mortified by the rumors being spread. She wished; she hoped it might all be forgotten soon; for the gentlemen had left, and certainly the gossip would die down when the wake of their departure had passed. But she could not help but be vexed by it all; why had she told her mother that she was in love with Mr. Darcy? Surely she could have predicted that it would be industriously circulated by her—she much rather would have had to disappoint Mr. Collins.

"Eliza?" called a voice, unmistakably Charlotte's, as she had followed her friend. Elizabeth, feeling unequal to encounter her, found a conveniently placed bookshelf and hid behind it, hoping that Charlotte would leave her to her solitude.


	6. Whispers

**Chapter Six: Whispers**

Elizabeth, ashamed and exasperated, knelt behind the bookshelf, her breathing shallow and uneven, and her mind in a whirl. She so desperately regretted telling such lies to her mother; how would she ever redeem herself? And if the gentleman ever discovered the rumors! Oh! She did not fear his disapproval; only what he may do in response, and that he should abhor her as much as her younger sisters. She twirled a lock of her hair between her fingers that had fallen loose, nervously waiting for the sound of the door closing, as Charlotte ceased spying for her. She was confident that her friend must have been gone, and was nearly resolved on coming out from hiding in such a stupid manner, till she heard yet _another_ voice, which returned her to all of her original despair.

"Charlotte! Pray forgive me, but I must ask; why is it that you are standing here, and quite alone? May I offer you some company?"

The soft, sweet tone of the speaker was immediately recognized by Elizabeth as belong to Jane. Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably, hoping that her sister's understanding and forgiving disposition would allow her to realize that Elizabeth wished to be alone.

"I do not mean to be unsociable; I am only worried about Eliza. I saw her talking with her mother and Mrs. Long, and, she just took off, and seeming quite out of spirits as well. I am not sure what was said, but I believe that I heard Mr. Darcy's name mentioned," replied Charlotte.

"Oh!—Poor Lizzy!—It must have been something very distressing, for I am sure you know that she always takes so well to things such as this. I hope that she has not been insulted! It must be all a terrible misunderstanding. Why, Charlotte, we must find her."

Elizabeth then heard footsteps as they entered the room; and, not insensible to how completely absurd she looked, quickly stood, and began to run her finger along the spines of books on the bookshelf, as if she were searching for a particular one. She heard the sound of the curtains being drawn open, and saw the sunlight flood into the room; and, several moments later, her two companions discovered her. Elizabeth turned about when she felt their gaze, and attempted to look surprised, though they were not so naïve as to be deceived by her façade of good humor.

"Lizzy! Are you all right? Charlotte has told me that you left in quite a hurry," said Jane, with solicitude and concern infused into her voice.

"What ever Mrs. Long or your mother said, it cannot be so terribly dreadful, Eliza. I hope that you are not concerned over some matter about _Mr. Darcy_, of all people? He is not worth your concern; I do remember how he slighted you when you first met at the Meryton assembly," added Charlotte.

"I am quite all right. Mrs. Long requested me to seek out—um—the third volume of—_Disencarenta_."

"_Disencarenta_? That is not even a real word, let alone the name of a book. I will never rest till you have obliged me," responded Charlotte.

"Dear, dear Lizzy! What ever it is, I am sure that whoever gave you displeasure did not intend any harm; it must all be a misunderstanding! I will be quite disconcerted if it is so troubling that you may not say! It is not a secret, is it? Pray, I would not want to pry at your secrets," said Jane.

"Oh," replied Elizabeth after a few moments of silence, though looking very pale and crestfallen, "I suppose that I cannot keep it secret much longer. It is only of gossip that I am troubled so."

"Gossip? Do not vex yourself over _that_; there is hardly any truth in it, as you ought to well know," interjected Charlotte.

"Oh! I know! It is that there is no truth in it at all which troubles me. And it was _I_ who laid the foundation for such disgusting rumors, and I fear that I should be censured if the truth is ever found out about what _I_ did."

"Lizzy, you speak in riddles. What could you have possibly done?" asked Jane, looking slightly confused.

"It is only that—well—I suppose I should explain in full. You see, after the Netherfield Ball, my mother came to me, and said that Mr. Collins intended to make me an offer of marriage; and I am sure that both of you know me well enough that it would be impossible for me to accept a man whom I did not respect, let alone love. So I was in such a panic, and knew that my mother would never be able to understand the nature of my rejection, so I quickly devised a plan to defer all of her wishes for my marrying Mr. Collins, and I—and I told her…" explained Elizabeth, trailing off as she reached the end of her monologue, unable to recognize the horror which she had brought upon herself.

"What did you tell her?" asked Charlotte, her eyes full of curiosity, though Jane was much too troubled by her sister's discontent to speak by now.

"I told her—try not to laugh—that I was in love with Mr. Darcy. A very foolish thing! And she believed it, and was in absolute raptures; and I was so relieved as to have been spared the trouble of repelling Mr. Collins' declarations of love that I thought not to ensure of her secrecy. So of course, the rumor is being spread round as we speak, and I have not a clue what ought to be done. It is most humiliating! And it would even be more shameful should everyone discover that it was all a lie! I would be declared the most scheming, sly, obstinate girl in all of Meryton!"

"Poor Lizzy! But you meant so well. You spared poor Mr. Collins the feelings of having been rejected; can you not see how happy that you have made him, by allowing Mary to be his bride instead?" said Jane, with her usual optimistic tone of voice returning once more.

"But, Jane, what if Mr. Darcy were to find out? How could that constitute in any happiness for anyone? I have acted foolishly."

"Would it be so very _bad_ a thing if Mr. Darcy were to believe that you were partial to him? If _he_ returned your affections, can you not see the advantage of it all? He has ten thousand a year, Eliza. You would never have any troubles with your finances again; and is it so very improbable that he is not in love with you? He danced with you at the Netherfield ball, which must mean he cannot think so very ill of you," suggested Charlotte.

"Oh, I warrant that he could give me a very comfortable situation in life, but it would not be worth the price of sparing my own happiness," replied Elizabeth disdainfully.

"Sparing your happiness? You would be mistress of half of Derbyshire!" Charlotte seemed absolutely shocked that anyone could not see the merits of an advantageous marriage, and the prospect of ten thousand a year.

"You speak of it as if that it is a certain thing, as if he has already proposed, Charlotte. Certainly he would think very little of me if he heard of the rumor; I will never be good enough for him, and even less so if he learns that I am so indiscreet as to scream out my affections for him to half the country."

"But you cannot rule out the _possibility_ of it, Eliza. It would be only natural for him to propose, and it takes no great stretch of imagination to suppose that he is in love with you. And how could you not accept him, if he were to? He has so much consequence, and surely all of your hatred would give way if he were under your power. And after such a rumor has been circulated, it would be quite a scandal for you to reject the man whom you claimed ardent love. You are almost _bound_, by honor, to seek his affection now. It is if it is an obligation!"

Elizabeth, finding that this was not comforting her at all, quickly excused herself, and fled once more. Charlotte, surprised that her counsel had not alleviated any fears of her friend's, and assuming that she simply thought that she needed time to think about the truths which she had clearly placed before her, returned to the wedding reception. Jane, however, would not allow her sister to escape her so easily; and was prepared to promptly follow her, till she heard a commotion behind her, and turned around, to see none other than Mr. Collins spying on her.

"Mr. Collins!" exclaimed Jane, clearly surprised. Mr. Collins instinctively turned away, but further questioning on Jane's part could not be ignored any longer.

"Excuse me, Miss Bennet, if I have intruded on your privacy. My dear Mary informed me that he had seen you dash off after Miss Lucas, and said that I ought to retrieve you. But I _assure_ you, miss, of my utmost secrecy on the—topics—discussed in confidence between yourself, Miss Lucas, and Miss Elizabeth. Surely you could not do me the dishonor by assuming that I would circulate it about," explained Mr. Collins, who was prepared to excuse himself, if Jane had not then cried out,

"You heard it all! Oh—forgive me Mr. Collins, but I am only very surprised. Of course, you are a man of honor, and I have no doubt of your secrecy. But, pray, excuse me, for I must go and comfort my sister," said Jane, who then quickly quitted the room and wandered about the house till she discovered her sister in her bedchamber. She could not help but worry what Mr. Collins thought of the discussion, particularly the parts which related to himself; but decided not to vex herself on the point any further, and saw no occasion to mention it to her sister, who was already very distressed.

"Lizzy! Do not trouble yourself over what Charlotte said. She only meant to _help_. I do not think you have done anything so terribly wrong. It will all sort itself out, you will see," said Jane with a smile that Elizabeth could not return.

"I wish that I could look upon it so favorably as you do, Jane," replied Elizabeth quietly, "and I shall hope to have you be correct. But, I suppose, as long as the unhappy truth remains between yourself and Charlotte, I have no doubt of it remaining a secret."

Jane assured her that not a soul would hear of it through her means, and Elizabeth, feeling a bit more spirited, added good-humoredly,

"Imagine my horror if, say, Mr. Collins had overheard it! He would undoubtedly tell it all to his beloved Lady Catherine, and what horror would come from that would be unfathomable!"

Jane could find little to laugh at with such a joke, and, not having the ability to function properly with her conscience wearing her down in the wake of telling a line, simply smiled, and hoped that her sister would continue to laugh away her troubles.


	7. A Change of Scene

**Chapter Seven: A Change of Scene**

Once the new Mr. and Mrs. Collins had left for Kent, Longbourn returned to its usual state, minus one occupant. Lydia and Kitty occupied their time by walking to Meryton, and visiting with officers, officer's wives, and their Aunt Philips. It was much to the relief of Jane and Elizabeth that the rumors concerning their supposed lovers had gone away, though the eldest Miss Bennet had received another letter ascertaining that none were to return to Netherfield the whole winter; and the only time that either of the gentlemen concerned were ever mentioned at Longbourn were when Mrs. Bennet made obvious allusions to them, which Elizabeth ignored as best she could. Jane then had the satisfaction of declaring that Meryton had forgotten all about them, though Elizabeth was not so certain that it had been completely so. The area had become rather gray, what with the departure of the interesting (for this was the kindest word with which Elizabeth could describe him) Mr. Collins and wealthy Netherfield party.

Mary wrote frequently to her family in Hertfordshire, though her letters were always very long, and very boring. They mostly contained useless information about Rosings and its proprietor, or what books she had read and what extracts she had made from them, or which pieces she had learned to play on the pianoforte. She was not so much fascinated by Lady Catherine de Bourgh and her daughter as Mr. Collins was, though she could say no wrong of them; apparently, she had found a friend in Mrs. Jenkinson, who lived with the de Bourghs.

At Christmas, Elizabeth's Aunt and Uncle Gardiner came to stay, as was custom, with their four children. It gave, especially the two eldest Miss Bennets, particular pleasure to see them, for they were both on the most intimate terms with them.

"We are so glad you are come!" cried Mrs. Bennet the first night which they stayed at dinner, "you know, things have been quite gloomy. Of course, my good girl Mary is having a splendid time with her Mr. Collins in Kent, but things have not gone so well for poor Jane and Lizzy, you know."

Their aunt looked with curiosity at their mother, and then at the girls themselves. Elizabeth felt the peculiar urge to toss the very lovely ham which offered as the table's centerpiece at her mother's head, though somehow supposed that that would be greatly lacking in propriety, and a waste of a perfectly good ham.

"Yes, sister, it is true. Why, Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy lead my girls on, and then they just went and left! Abandoned them! 'Tis all such a terrible business, and I think of it as little as possible. My poor, good girls; they would have gotten themselves rich husbands if they could—but it cannot be helped! It vexes me so."

"Mr. Darcy? Not of the Darcys at Pemberley in Derbyshire?" asked their aunt.

"The very one! But it all amounted to nothing."

Mrs. Gardiner directed a sympathetic look towards her nieces, and Elizabeth cleverly changed the subject, though she wished that she could contradict that which her mother had told them all.

After dinner, Mrs. Gardiner requested an audience of Jane and Elizabeth; and, uncertain of quite what she was going to say, seated themselves in the drawing room, contemplating what it was that they were there for. Elizabeth hoped that it would not concern the two gentlemen who had been discussed at dinnertime, for she wished to not think of them at all.

"Well, I have spoken with your mother," Mrs. Gardiner began, "and we have both agreed that it would be best for the both of you for a change of scene. That is, that when your uncle and I leave for London, we would wish for you to accompany us. Of course, I hope that neither of you will expect to meet your former beaus, for we move in quite different circles. Fear not, however; it shall not interfere with your visit to Kent in March; in fact, it works out quite conveniently, for on the rest of the family's way, they can stop to our house in town and retrieve you. Well, what say you, girls?"

Both Jane and Elizabeth, finding the excitement of London much to their taste, gratefully accepted. Their aunt had them promise that they would not seek out either Mr. Bingley or Mr. Darcy, which both readily applied to; for Elizabeth could think of nothing that she would dislike more than meeting with Mr. Darcy while in London, and neither was Jane comfortable with the prospect of confronting Mr. Bingley. Jane confessed that she would like to call on Mr. Bingley's sisters, however—a scheme which Mrs. Gardiner complied with—and excitement and anticipation once more filled the air of Longbourn.

Only a few days remained before the departure of Jane and Elizabeth with their Aunt and Uncle Gardiner, and a rather large dinner party had just broken up at Longbourn, when Mrs. Gardiner approached her niece, sitting and doing some needlework, and said,

"You have taken a liking to Mr. George Wickham, have you not?"

"I confess that he is very amiable."

"Well, Lizzy, I believe you are too sensible a girl to fall in love merely because you are warned against it; and, therefore, I am not afraid of speaking openly. Seriously, I would have you be on your guard. Do not involve yourself, or endeavor to involve him in an affection which the want of fortune would make so very imprudent. And, you must not be too hasty in forming an attachment; for, you know, you would seem quite vain if you were to have Mr. Wickham as your favorite so soon after Mr. Darcy has left."

"My dear aunt, this is being serious indeed!"

"Yes, and I hope to engage you to be serious likewise."

Elizabeth then proceeded to make it known to her aunt that though she thought Mr. Wickham a very fine man, that she was by no means in love with him; that she would take care to not allow an attachment to be formed on either side; and of course, saw the evils of seeming a seductress of sorts if word got around that she fancied him, when she had been said to be in love with Mr. Darcy only a month or so before. And, satisfied, her aunt had only to say that she ought to take care not to remind her mother of inviting Mr. Wickham to their dinner parties, which Elizabeth smilingly agreed to.

The remainder of the days which the two eldest Miss Bennets in anticipation of their departure to town passed by much quicker than they had expected; and it was not long before they had fastened the trunks to the carriage, and were on their way to basking in the air of London.


	8. Fortune's Fool

**Chapter Eight: Fortune's Fool**

Jane and Elizabeth had arrived at their Aunt and Uncle Gardiner's in Gracechurch Street by evening, but, despite the theater being open, were much too tired from their journey to do much other than keep to their rooms and sleep. Both were glad to be with their dear aunt and uncle; and Elizabeth especially was eager to escape from her mother and sisters, though her father had been sorry to see his girls go, assuring them that he would not hear two words of sense spoken together while they were gone.

"Well," said Elizabeth when she and her sister were alone, "our aunt has promised to take us both to shop tomorrow, so that we may catch up with the latest fashions."

"I believe that I shall enjoy myself. And I have just written another letter to Caroline Bingley, informing her that we have arrived in town."

"Did she never reply to the one you wrote her from Longbourn when we first learned of coming to stay in town?"

"I fear that it may have gotten lost," returned Jane mournfully.

"Indeed? Or perhaps she simply chose not to read them," suggested Elizabeth, with her decided dislike for both of Mr. Bingleys' sisters very much rekindled, especially when she supposed that they were the principal means of detaching their brother from Jane. She could not see why on earth they would want him to marry Miss Darcy, for Mr. Wickham had not painted a favorable picture of her.

"Surely there would be no occasion for _ignoring_ my letters, Lizzy. I cannot think that they are so bad. Well, if they do not reply to my latest letter in a fortnight, I shall call on her in Grosvenor Street."

"And I will accompany you, so that she will know that _I_ have not been deceived."

"Lizzy!"

Elizabeth merely smiled in reply. Jane declared that she was quite tired, and they both resolved on going to bed early. They would need to rest for all of the festivities which the morrow would bring. However, despite Elizabeth being quite tired, she could not manage to fall asleep immediately. She worried over Jane's imminent discovery that Miss Bingley was not the good friend which she thought her to be; and feared any meeting with either of the gentleman. Mr. Darcy was perhaps the last man on earth that she wished to see, and would hardly be able to bear the torment that her sister would go through if they were to see Mr. Bingley.

"Lizzy, it is time for breakfast," called one of Elizabeth's young cousins from outside of her bedchamber. Elizabeth, who had overslept, quickly pulled her covers away, yelled that she would come down soon. She dressed with great haste, not taking too much care with her appearance, too much in a rush to call for a servant. She was already late for breakfast! Her hair was a bit unkempt, but she thought that she looked suitable enough, and after gazing at her reflection in the mirror for a few seconds with mild satisfaction, quickly made her way to the dining parlor where her aunt, uncle, cousins, and sister sat.

When they had finished eating, Jane, Elizabeth, and Mrs. Gardiner set out for a day of shopping. Mr. Gardiner announced that he had business to tend to, though if he didn't, confessed that he did not see himself deriving any pleasure from browsing through bonnets, ribbons and dresses. The children had not yet learnt to care for their appearance, and would much rather stay at home. Therefore, the three ladies gained no further companions.

"Oh! Lizzy! Come here, and tell me, do you not think that bonnet absolutely charming?" cried Jane, as a particular window display had caught her eye.

"'Tis quite lovely; and of course, you would look well in what ever you wore, Jane," said Elizabeth. Their aunt walked over and examined it, and declared that she liked it very much as well; and all three were resolved on entering the shop, till a reflection in the window caught Elizabeth's eye, instinctively causing her to turn around to see if her eyes had betrayed her.

They had not. She saw none other than Mr. Darcy passing them in the street, and her unabashed gaze caught his eye, causing him to stop. She quickly turned back towards the shop, though it was too late; for Jane and Mrs. Gardiner had noticed this peculiar reaction of Elizabeth's, and saw that Mr. Darcy was boldly approaching them.

"Jane, help," whispered Elizabeth desperately, taking her sister's arm and walking off in another direction. Mrs. Gardiner, seeing the perverseness which such a situation would bring on, did not attempt to stop them, though this did not seem to deter the gentleman.

"Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth," said Mr. Darcy formally when he had gotten close enough, and bowed politely, giving the two Miss Bennets no choice but to stop. Both curtseyed, whilst Elizabeth looked off in the distance for something of interest to cause her to excuse herself. Mrs. Gardiner approached, examining Mr. Darcy curiously.

"This is my aunt, Mrs. Gardiner," said Jane to Mr. Darcy, though Elizabeth was quite unable to speak. Mrs. Gardiner curtseyed, and greeted him with cold civility, feeling all of the hurt which she supposed that Elizabeth had gone through. All four stood aloof for several moments, all at a loss for words. Elizabeth wondered why he had approached them, if he did not intend to say anything of interest.

"Excuse us," said Elizabeth finally, and the three ladies quickly walked off. Mrs. Gardiner could not help but look over her shoulder as they walked off, wondering at how such a man could have possibly led Elizabeth to fall in love with him.

They did not speak of the encounter for the rest of the day, and Elizabeth attempted to remain tolerably cheerful, but could not help but be affected by the accidental meeting. She hoped that they might never cross paths again, though she would always be a bit paranoid every time that she went out. Jane could not help but notice that her sister was not quite in spirits, so when they had all returned to the house in the evening, said,

"I am sorry that we saw Mr. Darcy today."

"Apology is quite useless now. I assure you that I will think no more of it, though I confess it did give me some displeasure."

"I hope that you do not think ill of him for it, Lizzy! It was surprisingly attentive that he should acknowledge us at all; and he could not mean any harm, for he does not know about the rumors, or that there is no truth to them."

"If he knows nothing of the rumors, why _would_ he acknowledge us at all?" asked Elizabeth bitterly.

"I do not think that Mr. Darcy is quite so lacking in civility as you seem to believe."

"_That_, my dear Jane, is a quite singular opinion. And, regardless if he meant ill on meeting us, I should still dislike him."

Jane, realizing that her sister could be incredibly stubborn in such things as this, said that she meant to write to their father, and departed to the drawing room, where there was a small writing table which she could utilize. Elizabeth attempted to think no more of Mr. Darcy, as she had promised her sister, though it seemed that her thoughts continually wandered back to him. Had he heard the rumors? What did he think of her? Why had he felt it necessary to greet them? Why did she care what he thought at all? It was all quite distressing.

They were all to go to the theater that night, though Elizabeth found herself distracted, in utter terror that she would turn around and see Mr. Darcy once again. She was constantly looking over her shoulder, and starting her seat every time she heard a voice that was remotely similar to his, and walked much more quickly than the others cared to going to and from the theater.


	9. Unlikely Occurrences

**Chapter Nine: Unlikely Occurrences**

The next three weeks of Elizabeth and Jane's stay in Gracechurch Street passed by quickly; their time was spent in such an agreeable manner that even Elizabeth could forget the fateful encounter with Mr. Darcy, and Jane didn't seem half so gloomy as she had been since Mr. Bingley had quitted Netherfield. Jane and Elizabeth were alone in the drawing room, discussing with great animation how friendly the family that they had dined with the night before was, when it occurred to Elizabeth that her sister had written twice to Caroline Bingley, and had heard nothing of a reply.

"Has Miss Bingley written you?" Elizabeth asked, rather abruptly.

"Oh! But she has not. What must she think of me? For I had forgotten all about her!"

"Dear Jane; how could _her_ not replying to _two_ letters you wrote possibly be negligence on your part? I assure you that she will have no way of knowing she was not intruding in on your thoughts these three weeks."

"Why, Lizzy, what a pity it would be if both my letters got lost! How very odd I should find it! But pray, we have no engagements today, do we? We could go and call on her in Grosvenor Street."

"It will fill her with guilt to see how good your nature is that you did not suspect a thing, even when she had clearly wronged you."

"Wronged me? You are too quick to judge; for she must have a perfectly reasonable excuse for not having written me back. But shall we go?"

"Aye, Jane, let's go."

The two sisters then sought out their aunt and uncle, told them of their intentions, rang the bell for the carriage, and were soon on their way to Grosvenor Street. It was a pleasant, sunny day; the temperature was surprisingly mild for winter, and there had not even been any frost that morning. It did not take half so long as Jane and Elizabeth had expected it to take to reach their desired location. They both exited the carriage, Jane hoping to be pleased, though Elizabeth not expecting it in the least bit.

They came upon a townhouse, which was much larger than their aunt and uncle's, with a charming exterior. It was a modern building, with a pretty little garden in the front, and a balcony which wrapped around the width of it; there were as many windows as could reasonably fit, and a small archway which led to the front door. Jane remarked on how pleasant it looked, and even Elizabeth could admit that it was quite nice, though she didn't expect its inhabitants to equal the house's pleasantness.

Upon entering, they were met by the housekeeper, who informed them that Mr. Darcy was taking tea with Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley; and though Elizabeth thought this reason enough to leave quickly and never look back, Jane was so pleased that Mr. Bingley was not there that she immediately asked if the housekeeper would so kindly show them in. Elizabeth thought of protesting, though didn't want to seem uncivil, or disturb her sister's rush of happiness. So they followed the housekeeper through the hallway, and their entrance was announced.

It seemed that all were surprised of their coming; though Mr. Darcy still had all of his hauteur, and Mr. Bingley's two sisters all of their usual glances which Elizabeth had always mistrusted. They were invited to sit, though Miss Bingley immediately scolded them for not having informed them of their coming to town.

"Indeed, you did not know?" asked Jane, with genuine surprise, "For I wrote you two letters! Certainly _both_ could not have gone lost?"

Miss Bingley assured her friend that they must have, though Elizabeth didn't believe a word of it, and even dear, unassuming Jane was looking a bit skeptical of such a proclamation. Miss Bingley then shifted closer to Mr. Darcy, said some praise of his sister, and smiled triumphantly at Elizabeth in particular, as if she were saying, "_Look at me, and the excellent man that I am attempting to seduce, and he doesn't even notice!_"

They then sat for several moments in silence; neither sure of what to say to the other; but Miss Bingley soon broke the silence.

"Well, I believe that we must be off, for we have business to attend to," she said, rising from her seat. The Bennet sisters and Mrs. Hurst did the same, with Mr. Darcy slightly hesitating before he stood.

"We will call on you," said Mr. Darcy. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst first stared at him in disbelief; then, registering that he had actually promised to visit two country nobodies in Cheapside, attempted to scare him into retracting his proposal with their contempt, but it did no good; he did not notice, and they all parted with cold civility, with Miss Bingley especially making it quite obvious that she had received no pleasure at all in their visit.

Jane and Elizabeth were on their way back to Gracechurch Street, when Elizabeth could not help but comment,

"Will you not admit that I was correct?"

"Well—" said Jane quietly, "I suppose—I can no longer deny—that they did seem a bit out of spirits. But you see, Mr. Darcy said that he would call on us. It was very civil of him, was it not?"

"For what it's worth, I hope that he doesn't."

"Oh Lizzy! I can see that it would make you uncomfortable, and I am sorry if it does. But you can't deny that Mr. Darcy made a very noble offer; and surely you must forgive yourself for what you said to Mama. I assure you that I should have forgotten it by now if it had not been for your constant reminders."

"The words _Mr. Darcy _and _noble_ do not belong in the same sentence," was the only reply which Elizabeth gave, with a jesting smile.

"Lizzy!" was Jane's reproof.

"Either way, I would not count on them calling. Let us not wait around for them, or we shall be waiting for weeks on end, I dare say."

"We must give them a chance—they may redeem themselves—they are not so bad!"

"Poor, good Jane; it will be quite a shock to you when you have come to realize that not everyone is as sweet or well-meaning as you are. But I should like to think as little of the former Netherfield party as possible."

"If you wish; I shouldn't like to upset you."

Jane was true to her word—she spoke no more of the Bingleys or Hursts or Darcys for the rest of the day, or even the next morning.

Elizabeth and Jane had finished their breakfast with their aunt, uncle and little cousins, and were preparing to go out, when they observed a carriage stopping before the house from an upstairs window; and, wondering who it could possibly be, for they had expected no one, instantly set off to discover who it was. They had only reached the drawing room, when Mr. Darcy's, and Mr. Darcy's only, entrance was announced. That he should call, and so promptly, was unnecessarily civil; and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner both observed their niece Elizabeth carefully, to see her as much surprised as they were.

He entered; he inquired after Miss Bennet's family, wished to be introduced to their aunt and uncle, and explained that Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst were sadly unable to visit them, but promised to come soon.

He stayed about a quarter of an hour, being silent much more than he spoke; and Elizabeth wondered why he had come at all, if only to be silent and taciturn; any questions which they managed to think up for him to answer he answered quickly, and was once more quiet. They were all thankful when he left, and eager to leave the house.

"Did you not only visit Gracechurch Street yesterday?" asked Mrs. Gardiner of Elizabeth, with unabashed wonder.

"Yes," replied Elizabeth, going a bit pale.

"Lizzy?"

"Yes, Aunt Gardiner?"

"I hope you don't mind my asking; but—well—do you suppose that Mr. Darcy may still be in love with you?"

"What on earth would make you think that?" snapped Elizabeth, sounding a bit agitated.

"I'm sorry if I have offended you—I only meant—well, why else would he call on us in this familiar way? And he did look at you quite oftener than anybody else, which I am sure, did not escape your notice."

Elizabeth only laughed slightly, making a comment which effectively deferred her aunt's interrogation, though she much rather would have cried. Abominable, proud man! What did he mean, going to _Cheapside_, only to make a trifling little visit? Was he triumphing over them? And what of Mr. Bingley?—surely they could not conceal their being there from that gentleman. And how, more importantly, was Mr. Darcy to ever cleanse himself of the impurities of Gracechurch Street and her tradesmen relations?


	10. Continued Disappointments

**Chapter Ten: Continued Disappointments**

Jane, unlike her sister, had found Mr. Darcy's prompt visit so encouraging that she was determined on waiting for Miss Bingley or Mrs. Hurst to call the very next day. Though Elizabeth was determined that they would not, there was no dissuading her sister; but neither came the next day. It barely chipped away at Jane's hope though—surely she had expected too much of them—so they were obliged to wait again the next day, staring expectantly out the window. And the next day; and the next day; and the day after that—and so was their morning ritual every day for the next three weeks. Elizabeth thought it quite unnecessary, and towards the end of the aforementioned period, even Jane was beginning to become disheartened.

"Oh, Lizzy! It fills me with sorrow that they have not yet come. And it is impossible that Mr. Bingley shouldn't know of our being in town now—he must not care for me; have never cared for me—and yet they still do not call! I am so deeply grieved."

"Dear Jane; how I knew your disappointment would be so, yet I knew that there was no avoiding it. But pray, cheer up, for I will let you know that none of them mean anything to me, and they should mean nothing to you either. _I_ should never forsake you as they have."

Elizabeth continued to encourage her sister to be cheerful with such little comments; and she had nearly restored Jane to her usual lightness of spirit, when they heard a carriage pulling up to the house, and saw none other than Miss Bingley approaching the house. Jane was filled with such immediate delight, though Elizabeth disgusted that she dare come after having disappointed her sister for so many weeks; and so Elizabeth hesitatingly set out to meet her.

Miss Bingley seemed to be in a particularly foul mood; she had a discernible scowl upon her face for the entirety of the visit, and her behavior was bordering on being uncivil. Even Jane was shocked at her manners, and neither their aunt nor uncle impressed at all with Miss Bingley. She barely apologized for having neglected them for so very long, and only stayed all of ten minutes before setting off as quickly as possible, seeming as if _she_ would need much more cleansing from such a place than even Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth found herself, during the visit, almost wishing that she were Mr. Darcy instead; for though their meeting with him had been awkward and filled with more silence than conversation, he had been no more reserved or unsociable than he ever was.

Such a melancholy humor overtook Jane when Miss Bingley had left, that Elizabeth wondered if she should ever recover from such a blow. She declared herself quite ill, and set off for her bedchamber—Elizabeth was sincerely grieved for her sister, and her resentment of Miss Bingley reached a new height. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner could not help but remark on how abominably rude Miss Bingley had been; and it did not even escape some of the older children that she was without question the most ill-humored lady whom they had ever encountered.

Elizabeth could not but give her acquiescence to such proclamations, and then went after Jane to hopefully comfort her. She came upon her sister, who was looking quite pale and poorly indeed.

"Oh Jane! Please, think no more of Miss Bingley. She quite clearly is not worthy of your companionship; not worthy of being distressed over. Do cheer up! I cannot bear to see you in such a state. If you will not be happy for your own sake, then do it for _mine_; for I can never be happy if you are not."

"Of course you are right, Lizzy," said Jane quietly, "but I cannot help but be excessively disappointed—oh!—but surely, I have no desire to continue the acquaintance now. It is clear that she does not wish to—and did you hear how apparent it was that Mr. Bingley knew of our being in town, and did not care to meet with us?"

"_I _would not trust Miss Bingley's word any more than I would trust any gossiping female in Meryton. Pray, let us cut ourselves completely off from them! Insolent, undeserving people!"

"Yes—I shall endeavor to forget that I ever knew them—and Aunt and Uncle Gardiner have been so kind to us—it would certainly be doing them a disservice if I was not tolerably happy. Why, it is only February, and we still have till mid-March to enjoy ourselves. I have been most unhappily deceived in Miss Bingley's regard for me—but I am so glad to have you, dear Lizzy, to comfort me."

"You are exactly in the right mind of thinking! Pray, continue on in this way, and we shall both be as light as a feather. We are to dine with the Lewises tonight, and do you not remember how very pleasant and obliging they all were? And I remember that you got on uncommonly well with Miss Eleanor Lewis."

"Of course! Dear Miss Lewis, what a pleasant girl. I shall think no more of Miss Bingley, and only of the happy Miss Lewis. What a charming performer she is on the pianoforte!"

And so their conversation continued, with incessant praise of Miss Lewis. Elizabeth was quite glad to have effectively cheered up her sister, and to have swiftly enough turned the tide of their conversation; though Jane was never quite so happy as Elizabeth would have liked, she was cheery enough so that no one but her dearest sister could notice any change at all in her countenance. London was full of diversions to keep their attention away from Miss Bingley or Mr. Bingley, with their speaking as little of them as could be expected. Every now and then Jane would praise someone to her sister by comparing them with Mr. Bingley; and though Elizabeth discouraged such form of praise, it could hardly be helped. Jane had never fancied herself in love before, and she still looked upon him with all the warmth of first attachment, if not so towards his sisters. Elizabeth was so happy with Mr. Darcy never calling on them again, that she was able to keep from speaking of him. Miss Bingley could have him; their tempers seemed alike enough that they would do each other very well. Elizabeth sometimes amused herself, when she had trouble sleeping, of imagining Miss Bingley vying for his attention unsuccessfully; she had occasionally wondered whether he did not notice her attentions because he was truly oblivious, or because did not wish to notice them.

Though Elizabeth tried as best she could to _not_ think of them, it was impossible for her to shut them out completely; and she had a recurring sort of nightmare. At first it did not seem so dreadful—she would be in a pretty little field, with wildflowers, which overlooked the sea, and dressed in a white silk gown. She would hear a gentle little piano tune, and follow its sound till she found a grand pianoforte, quite in the middle of nowhere, with Miss Darcy, who quite looked like a miniature version of Miss Bingley, playing. _Then_, she would see Mr. Darcy with her mother, who came upon them and insisting that they marry. She would turn away, only to see Miss Bingley, wielding a rather large axe. So she would run like anything, with them all running and screaming after her, till she fell off the cliff and went plummeting to the ocean—and then she woke up. She couldn't comprehend the meaning of it; why her subconscious chose to torture her so, and why on earth she imagined Miss Bingley with an axe. It was so ridiculous and nonsensical that she did not think it worth mentioning to anybody.

Despite trifling little nightmares, and the occasional mention of Mr. Bingley by Jane, the remainder of their time in London was spent quite well. They were quite constantly engaged with their aunt and uncle's acquaintances, and learnt of many of the latest fashions, and went to the theater very frequently. The weather was generally mild, save one small storm, and the shift from winter to spring was coming on very gradually.

"Well," said Mr. Gardiner as they were all eating dinner, "you have only a week longer to spend with us before you are on your way to Kent! I hope that you have passed your time here not disagreeably?"

"Oh, it has been so very pleasant, Uncle Gardiner!" Jane assured him; "I should infinitely prefer it to have stayed at Longbourn."

"And I too," added Elizabeth with a smile.

Their aunt and uncle spoke happily of their nieces' satisfaction, and they spent the rest of dinner reminiscing of all of the good memories which they had created during their visit, and spoke nothing of the bad ones. The children declared that they would be excessively sorry to see their favorite cousins go; Jane especially was a favorite among them, for her temperament was exactly right to give children (or anyone, really) a favorable impression of her. Elizabeth, too, enjoyed entertaining the children; but none could take so much pleasure in it as Jane.

The days hastily passed by; and soon it was not but one day till the arrival of their parents and younger sisters were expected. Their correspondence with them had been as frequent as could be expected, so they were quite certain of their coming on time. Elizabeth was sorry to be leaving so soon; for she knew that with Kent, there would be Mr. Collins and Lady Catherine de Bourgh (with whom she expected to find a proud, conceited woman, according to Mr. Wickham's intelligence), and perhaps the worst of all, Mr. Darcy.


	11. Another Change of Scene

**Chapter Eleven: Another Change of Scene**

The arrival of Jane and Elizabeth's family was as loud and boisterous as could be expected—they were all only to stay a few hours, for Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner's house was not large enough to accommodate them all overnight. Lydia had many tales of officers and officers' wives to tell her sisters; and so she gave long, tedious speeches on them all, with additional commentary from Kitty. Her mother, on the other hand, could not speak enough of the amiable Mr. Collins and his new wife; it was all praise, all exuberant joyfulness. Mr. Bennet was perhaps the quietest of the added party; he was truly happy to see his two eldest daughters again, and could perhaps appreciate the company of his brother and sister-in-law more than the others.

"It is such a pity that we are all to go to Kent! My dear friend Mrs. Forster declared it to be so, and she was excessively sorry to have us go. 'I beg you will not go,' she said to me when Kitty and me came to take our leave; 'Do stay and keep me company.' But la! It could not be, for we must be in the tiresome company of Mary and _Lady Catherine de Bourgh_. Lord, how I should dread it. But Papa said that I have no choice, and Mama would not hear of our not seeing Mary," said Lydia.

"And Mr. Wickham was sorry, too," added Kitty.

"Oh yes! Mr. Wickham! Lizzy, I have some dreadful news about Mr. Wickham. He is engaged—and I know you will never guess with who—but he is engaged to a Miss King! I know; it is an outrage; she is such an ugly, freckled little thing. I haven't the faintest idea why on earth he would want anything to do with such a girl. But I'm sure if you would have stayed at home, Lizzy, he would have infinitely preferred _you_. You were such a favorite of his, I dare say!"

"But she has just inherited a fortune of ten thousand pounds," pointed out Kitty.

"Well then, Lydia, I think you will find that beauty and good humor are not the only virtues," said Mrs. Gardiner.

Elizabeth was rather surprised with news of Mr. Wickham's engagement; but the more she thought about it, the less surprised she felt she ought to feel. He had almost no consequence, and could surely not afford to marry a girl of little to no fortune; handsome young men needed _something_ to live on, as well as the plain. And she had never been in love with him—no—she could be perfectly happy, and even be indifferent towards Miss King. Although her youngest sister expected her to be deeply affected, she effectively ended the conversation of Mr. Wickham and his new fiancée with a few comments of that she wished them very well, and was not the least bit upset.

They were to have a bit of lunch before the Bennets all departed for Hunsford Parsonage in Kent; and the lunch went by much more quickly than either Jane or Elizabeth would have liked. But it was time to go; and, with a hasty kiss for each of the children and an affectionate adieu to their aunt and uncle, all of the Bennets were soon off.

"Well," said Jane, staring out of the carriage at the fields that they passed by, "I should be very happy to see Mary again."

"It has been quite longer than it seems since we have seen her—not since early December. Well, I am sure that Mr. Collins is not changed," said Elizabeth, as equally detached from the conversation as her elder sister was.

"I should like to think it would be a good thing to find Mr. Collins unchanged."

"Not I; he left Longbourn as audacious as ever."

"But he is not a bad man—not violent, certainly—and always well-meaning, and chatty."

"_Chatty_ is not the appropriate word; conversation is not so much to his liking as long monologues are."

"Call him what you like; I shall think him to be chatty. We must like him better, you know, for he is our brother now."

Their conversation then dissipated, and they fully engaged themselves in their own reveries. Elizabeth was imagining what Lady Catherine might be like; how she would look, what she would say—but more to her interest yet was her daughter, Miss Anne de Bourgh. She was to be Mr. Darcy's bride, and it would be interesting to see what sort of girl she was. Surely she could not be entirely sensible—for who in their senses would agree to an engagement with Mr. Darcy? Perhaps she was like Miss Bingley; perhaps _that_ was the sort of women that he attracted.

She smiled as she thought of the folly of Mr. Collins; perhaps his society did leave something wanting, but she could at least amuse herself with his caprice, as her father would undoubtedly be doing. It would certainly be nothing like London; none of the friendly people that her aunt and uncle were acquainted with; but she imagined that she might still prefer it to being at Longbourn, with only news of officers and monthly balls to entertain her.

The journey was not half so long as it would have been had Elizabeth departed from Hertfordshire, though it was ample time for Jane to have fallen asleep; and when she could distinguish what seemed to be the outskirts of Rosings Park, she hastily awoke her sister.

"Well! How lovely it does look!" said Jane, once she had woken up long enough to focus her eyes on the sights to be seen outside of the carriage.

"I think I should like to take walks about it very much," commented Elizabeth, her eyes fixed on the pleasant landscape before them. Jane agreed, though Elizabeth imagined that most of her walks would be taken alone; not that she minded the solitude, for she had a great love for solitary walks; but Jane was not so used to the exercise, so her sister would not be able to walk so much.

They watched eagerly for the first sights of the parsonage; and, at length, it did appear. It was a charming little cottage, with a thatched roof and ivy growing about its front, and a sweet little garden which Elizabeth could perceive a bit of from the back, with a gravel walk which led to the front door. Upon hearing the sound of the carriages approaching, Mr. and Mrs. Collins set out from the house, smiling like anything and waving to their family, looking, at first glance, to be the very picture of conjugal felicity. All were pleased to be upon the parsonage; for they were all tired of sitting, and were curious to see how Mr. Collins and Mary got on.

"Welcome to our humble abode!" announced Mr. Collins merrily as he and his wife rushed to greet their guests. Their salutations were not terribly affectionate, though Mrs. Bennet did take care to give her good girl Mary a warm embrace, and was praising Mr. Collins beyond what he deserved.

Mary seemed very much like she was when she was first engaged to Mr. Collins; she spoke warmly of him and his merits, and with great pride accompanied them on their tour of the house, pointing out how well Mr. Collins and she maintained their little home. They then set out to the garden, as Mary explained he worked in it quite constantly; and none could doubt that it was very nice. Husband and wife were both intimate with their surroundings; they could name the number of trees in the most distant clump, and recounted with animation any anecdotes that a particular shrub reminded them of.

The Bennets then seated themselves inside, fatigued from their journey, though their hosts were still eager to entertain. The pianoforte was opened, and Mary eagerly approached it, like a moth to a flame, and was soon playing away just as she did when she was at Longbourn. Her taste had shown no signs of improvement, and her execution as impeccable as always. Mr. Collins was consistently complimenting her all the way through, which did prevent their hearing each song very clearly.

"Well, Mr. Collins has not disappointed me," whispered Mr. Bennet into Elizabeth's ear, which procured a broad smile from the latter.

"Lady Catherine de Bourgh," said Mr. Collins as they had all sat down to dinner, with such a warmth in the tone of his voice as he said her name that, from an outsider's perspective, he could have been believed to be a lover, "is so condescending, so very good to us, that she is to have us all dine at Rosings tomorrow! How attentive, how affable is this? She has a great desire to meet all of my fair sisters, and mother and father, and I have not a doubt that she will be excessively pleased with you all."

"Oh yes!" added his faithful companion, "We are so very grateful to her. Such attention was completely unnecessary, yet Lady Catherine never fails to be all that is accommodating."

"Very true, my dear Mrs. Collins; very true! I'll have you all know that we dine at Rosings two times a week!"

"And very likely more, now that you are all here."

"Is it so?" asked Mr. Bennet good-humoredly, "Well I declare that Lady Catherine must be very obliging indeed to be so eager to meet with some very silly girls."

"Mr. Bennet!" scolded his wife; "How can you say such things? Lady Catherine, I have no doubt, is extremely sensible, and will not fail to gain our approbation. Is it not so, good Mary?"

"Aye, Mama, it—"

However, Mr. Collins could resist no opportunity to offer praise of Lady Catherine, and quickly interrupted,

"Lady Catherine de Bourgh is the most sensible, best patroness! If anything has been done less than sensible, I assure you she has never had anything to do with it; and dare I stress her great condescension in wanting to meet with you all so very soon?"

Lydia and Kitty began to laugh at this, as the conversation exceeded even their own degree of silliness, and Jane was obliged to keep them quiet. But so did the rest of the evening pass; with most topics with Lady Catherine at its center, proving Mr. Collins to have lost absolutely none of his ridiculousness. Mr. Bennet was extremely diverted by it; Elizabeth, barely less so; Jane was determined to be pleased, so she was; Kitty and Lydia, uncharacteristically, spoke very little, though they were probably mourning over the loss of the society of officers; and Mrs. Bennet was in such raptures that she had very little time to spare for something like thought.

"Enjoying Kent?" asked Elizabeth smilingly when she and Jane had retired to their bedchamber.

"I am; this is a very charming house, and Mr. Collins is very—enthusiastic. Well, dear Mary is quite happy," responded Jane, choosing her words carefully.

"Enthusiastic! Yes, that he is. It will be interesting to see how he behaves in front of the Lady herself."

"She must be extremely gratified by how highly he reveres her."

"I am sure that she receives enough gratification from everyone! I dare not attempt to conjecture at her amount of vanity."

"_I_ cannot believe that she can be anything so bad. If she was, why would Mr. Collins and Mary both be so pleased with her?"

"Well, she is without a doubt an obliging patroness, and I am sure that that would make them blind to any of her faults."

"We shall see tomorrow, Lizzy!"

"And _I_ shall bet you five shillings that Mr. Collins will shed a tear when we come upon Lady Catherine de Bourgh herself."

They then took an opportunity to share a laugh, before finally resolving that it was very late, and that they had better get their rest, for they would certainly need all of the energy that they could spare in order to prepare themselves for Lady Catherine.


	12. Lady Catherine

**Chapter 12: Lady Catherine**

Hunsford Parsonage was in such a pandemonium the next day that Elizabeth doubted that they might ever return to normality. Mr. and Mrs. Collins had taken care to stress that they wore whatever they thought was best, which sent Kitty and Lydia, who cared the most about their appearances, into a complete panic. Which dress was better, how ought they to do their hair? All members of the household were bombarded with such questions. Mrs. Bennet was so insistent upon their all dressing with such care that it was taking the entire day just to dress; and then, when Mr. Collins reminded them that Lady Catherine wished them to be very punctual ten minutes before they had better leave, they were all running around and attempting to ready themselves as quickly as possible.

"Oh dear! Oh my!" cried Mrs. Bennet as she ran about the house anxiously. Elizabeth and Mr. Bennet, perhaps, were the only two creatures in the household who were prepared.

Mr. Bennet chuckled, and said to his second daughter, "If every day were spent in such a manner, I should never be bored again."

"If every day were spent in such a manner, _I_ should never get any sleep," countered Elizabeth. They both laughed, and at last, Kitty and Lydia came forward, dressed with exceptional care, and adjusting their posture to be the most ladylike and flattering that they could imagine.

"Lizzy! You have a stray hair!" cried Kitty on observing her sister's appearance, seeming absolutely mortified. Elizabeth merely smiled and smoothed her hair back. _She_ was not afraid of Lady Catherine, as everybody else seemed to be.

Soon after the rest of the party appeared, and they resolved on setting off at last. It was a short walk to Rosings, and a pleasant one; it was an overcast day, so there was no sun, but it was only midday so there was still ample light to see. Mr. Collins spoke of the number of windows which Rosings boasted, and the price of the glazing, and the vast number of rooms. When they came upon the place, Elizabeth saw that it had as much splendor and grandeur as she had expected; the gardens were very well-tailored, and the entrance as grand as she had ever seen. Lydia and Kitty were speechless, though Mrs. Bennet was not amazed enough by it to hold her tongue. Jane spoke warmly of its charm to Mr. and Mrs. Collins, while Mr. Bennet and Elizabeth simply admired for a bit, and then laughed at the reactions of the rest of the party.

They were shown into a large parlor, with intricate tapestries adorning the walls, and furniture enough to fill all of Hunsford. They then came upon Lady Catherine and her daughter; and all seemed to be awed by the elegance of her dress, and the sternness of her expression. They were then introduced formally. Elizabeth was surprised to find a very small, slight creature in Miss de Bourgh—she would never have guessed that she and her mother were at all related—and she had such a cross and sickly countenance that Elizabeth was immediately convinced of her making Mr. Darcy a very proper wife.

Tea was ordered for them all, and then the interrogations of Lady Catherine began. She could not say enough on any subject, and was constantly asking questions of all of the Bennet girls and their parents, and giving careful advice for it all. She scolded Mary on having her hairstyle put up in exactly the wrong way; and Kitty and Lydia were fearful that such accusations would then be directed towards them, but they were luckily spared. There was not twenty seconds in a row that passed without Lady Catherine having something to say for herself; and Elizabeth was not so sure that she meant to be helpful or that enjoyed the sound of her own voice.

"Pray, Lady Catherine," said Mary when she had at last a chance to speak, "when are your two nephews to arrive for Easter?"

"Oh!" she responded, "Of course, dear Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy!"

"Did you say _Colonel_ Fitzwilliam?" interrupted Lydia boldly with a hopeful look on her face. It was extremely comforting to know that perhaps Kent was not completely without militiamen to entertain them.

"Indeed I did, Miss Lydia," replied Lady Catherine, with a disapproving look on her face; she then turned back to Mary, and said, "They had ought to come these three days. But of course, it will be necessary for me to introduce them to you. They are very fine gentleman, I assure you. Mr. Darcy, good fellow, has a large estate in Der—"

"We have already met Mr. Darcy in Hertfordshire," said Elizabeth, not wanting to hear anything of praise of such an odious man.

"But do tell us of _Colonel_ Fitzwilliam!" begged Kitty, mustering up the courage to speak for the first time.

Lady Catherine was very pleased to explain in full the history of her nephew; but they became quite disinterested upon learning that he was not so very young, and that the general opinion of him was that he was not so entirely handsome, though Lady Catherine spoke greatly of his charm. But to the two youngest Miss Bennets, there could be no charm in someone who did not have a pleasant smile, or a handsome face.

When their visit had ended, Elizabeth concluded her to be very much what she had expected. She was affable enough to suit the fancy of Mr. and Mrs. Collins—for she absolutely forbade them to leave without going back to the parsonage in her carriage—but no more than the typical, aristocratic woman. It was very obvious that she thought highly of herself, and of her daughter, who appeared to have no talents, though Lady Catherine de Bourgh was certain that she would have had her health allowed her to develop them. Miss de Bourgh only spoke when it was necessary, and spent most of the time principally occupied with her governess.

"Lady Catherine is very pleasing, and certainly very friendly," concluded Jane as they all returned to the house.

"Oh! Indeed, Mr. Collins, she is everything that you had said she would be! And such great advice; why, you had not said what advice she gives!" cried Mrs. Bennet.

"Did I not? How unforgivable of me! I do apologize, most sincerely, for not having informed you of such a merit. Yes, yes, I knew that you would all be pleased; for who could not be?" said Mr. Collins.

Elizabeth would have very much liked to object to his latter supposition, but did not think it wise to say anything ill of Lady Catherine before her most adamant admirer; so she simply made a brief comment saying that she was a good a patroness, and eagerly set off for the stairs, wanting very much to escape the energy which surrounded the rest of the party. Jane followed after her, as she could not resist a tête-à-tête with her sister.

"Now, Jane, tell me your _real_ opinion of Lady Catherine," said Elizabeth.

"Lizzy! I really did find her pleasing."

"I found her to be exactly as I expected. She certainly is determined on making herself useful, I _will_ grant her that; but certainly she thinks very well of herself, and poorly of others."

"But our family has certainly made a good alliance."

"I suppose it is so; though I am not so sure that a _good_ alliance is an alliance with Mr. Darcy's family."

"Poor Mr. Darcy! He is to come in three days, and here you will be, abusing him so. Really, you must be a little forgiving! He has done nothing so unworthy!"

"Jane! Do you not remember what he did to poor Mr. Wickham?"

"I am more convinced that it was all a misunderstanding; for Mr. Bing—"

Jane, realizing whose name she had been on the verge of saying, became instantly silent.

"I shall promise to be more moderate in my censure, then," said Elizabeth, hoping to quickly overcome the awkwardness of the moment.

"Thank you," said Jane softly.

They both stood. As Elizabeth glanced out the window she saw that the clouds which had lingered in the sky were now dissipating, and she fancied that she might take a walk. Jane sighed, and turned to look at her sister. They shared a long, serious gaze, before their solemnity was interrupted by the entrance of another.

"Jane! Lizzy! Is not Lady Catherine so very good to our Mr. and Mrs. Collins? And have you ever seen such elegance of dress, or well-bred manners? She is everything that is good; and Mr. Darcy, to come in three days, ay Lizzy? Well, I dare say we shall see him at church, and I will see to it that he is invited by my good girl Mary," exclaimed Mrs. Bennet happily.

"Mama, that is not—" Elizabeth began; but her mother would not hear of not scheming to have Mr. Darcy fall in love with her.

"So modest, so humble! I am sure that Mr. Darcy will like that very much. Now, what say you that we go to that pretty little town we passed by on our way here and get you a new dress? Yes, yes; you can't be seen by Mr. Darcy in that thing!"

"_Really_, Mama! I am going to take a walk," said Elizabeth, becoming a bit exasperated, and quickly excused herself.

"Oh! Jane, do you suppose I have made Lizzy angry? Poor dear, she has just been holding her heart in two these past months, hasn't she? Well, I dare say I can order the dress without her coming along."

"Mama, I am sure that Lizzy would much rather be left as she is," advised Jane.

"I suppose you do know her well, don't you? Always talking to each other! But so it should be. But I think that a new dress would cheer her up very nicely. White is the fashion, you know," and with those words Mrs. Bennet quickly departed, eager to sing her praises of Lady Catherine to the unfortunate Mr. Bennet. Jane stood in silent contemplation before she quitted the bedchamber herself, as her heart was filled with pity and concern for her dear sister Elizabeth.


	13. Sources of Discomfort

**Chapter Thirteen: Sources of Discomfort**

Elizabeth had found a small, winding trail which led through a hanging wood. She was relieved to have escaped her mother, though feared how she would act in front of Mr. Darcy. She blushed at the very thought of her mother making such a display! She breathed in deeply, and as she walked along, a patch of wildflowers caught her eye amongst the brush and trees. They had small, purple blossoms, with each petal coming to a point. She kneeled down and plucked one from its plant, twirling the small flower between her fingers.

She smiled, placing the tiny flower into her hair, and stood. She had only begun to continue down the trail when she saw the very man who had been just haunting her thoughts. Fate would have it that he should come early! She instantly turned the other way, determined on returning to the parsonage, where she might have to put up with the ridiculousness of her family; but she would at least be spared another meeting with Mr. Darcy.

"Miss Bennet?" he called, seeming surprised to see her. She sighed and turned around, realizing that she could no longer avoid the meeting now.

"Mr. Darcy," she said archly as she curtseyed.

"What are you doing here?" he asked with unabashed wonder.

"I am visiting my sister."

"Oh! Of course."

She was set on departing then, but to her confusion and surprise, Mr. Darcy approached her still, and actually began to walk alongside her. She bit her lip, wondering why it was that she had to endure such torture. She began to idly play with the wildflower in her hair, hoping that he would soon go away.

"So—you enjoy solitary walks?" asked Mr. Darcy.

"Yes," responded Elizabeth coldly; "I do. Did you not come early? Lady Catherine said you would not be here for three days."

"I concluded some business earlier than I had expected; I have only just arrived. And your sister is—"

"—married to Mr. Collins, yes."

"And, are they well? Do you think that they are happy?"

"Very well, thank you. As for their happiness, there is no doubt that it is a very eligible match. But you know eligibility is not the _only_ ingredient for a happy marriage."

She stole a sly look at him, wondering what he would make of her last comment. She imagined it would be such a shock that perhaps, there _can _be pleasure in a situation which is not wholly based on fortune. Dear Jane! What could have been, if not for Mr. Bingley's officious sisters and friend!

"I know," he replied seriously, stopping and turning towards Elizabeth.

Elizabeth was beginning to feel quite uncomfortable with these questions, and quickly backed away. And what was she to make of such an answer? As if _he_ knew anything about love!

"I will be wanted at the parsonage now. Good day, Mr. Darcy."

With a slight curtsey, she quickly set off in the opposite direction. Insufferable man! What did he mean by asking her such questions? He spoke to her as if they were good friends! Nonsense! And he was so sedate, so relaxed through it all! She knew not what to make of him. He was certainly a mystery to her. She could not account for such behavior!

"Could it be?" she mused, "Could it be as Aunt Gardiner suggested? Mr. Darcy in love with me—no, no, that cannot be so! It exactly contradicts his behavior which I _suspect_ he had something to do with in separating Jane from Mr. Bingley! If he cared at all for me, how could he do such a thing to my sister?"

When she returned to Hunsford, she perceived Jane walking about the garden. She quickly joined her, eager to announce the news of Mr. Darcy having come. She was in need of some of Jane's unvarying optimism. Jane, on seeing her sister, smiled demurely and began to say:

"I am sorry that Mama kept speaking of—"

"I saw Mr. Darcy," divulged Elizabeth.

"Just now! Really?"

"I do not think he was a mirage, Jane."

"Of course not; but three days early! He must have a real regard for his aunt. You see, Lizzy, she is not so unworthy."

"I would consider being highly regarded by Mr. Darcy a fault."

"On the contrary—judging by your opinion of Mr. Darcy, his good opinion would be most unwillingly bestowed—and therefore its being earned would certainly say something of the object of his regard."

"I am obstinate, Jane; and I resolve on remaining skeptical of any who can boast having procured the good opinion of Mr. Darcy."

Jane then muttered something inaudible beneath her breath, which entirely escaped Elizabeth's notice. They continued walking about, as Elizabeth explained in full her encounter, and pointing out his impertinence in asking such strange, unconnected questions. Jane then, as was her nature, dismissed any possible malice meant on Mr. Darcy's part; and Elizabeth was nearly resolved on revealing her fears regarding the subject, when Kitty and Lydia ran out into the garden in joyous uproar.

"A ball! There is to be a ball tomorrow fortnight!" cried Lydia.

"We had set out, determined on discovering one," explained Kitty, "and here we have been informed of a public ball in Westerham!"

"It is not but three miles away!" added Lydia, "Oh! I shall not die of boredom!"

Before either Jane or Elizabeth could get a word in edgewise of their opinion on attending a ball in Westerham, Mrs. Bennet threw open the door and entered into the garden, singing the praises of a ball as the two youngest Miss Bennets had just done.

"Of course, Mr. Darcy will be at the ball, will he not, Lizzy? It is such a perfect opportunity!" exclaimed Mrs. Bennet.

"Mr. Darcy hates balls," said Elizabeth dryly.

"Does he?—Ah! But you shall be inducement enough to make him go."

"Then _you_ may persuade Mr. Darcy, for I certainly will not."

"Well, Lizzy; you shall stay at home, and not go to the ball, so that you may see Mr. Darcy."

"If you insist," responded Elizabeth unenthusiastically, not entirely willing to quarrel with her mother on the subject.

Her mother continued raving till they resolved on going inside, where they were then informed by Mr. Collins that Miss de Bourgh had just come by in her phaeton and ponies, and had invited them all for dinner on the morrow, for Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam had arrived at Rosings. This new intelligence had such a blissful effect on Mrs. Bennet that is scarcely to be described; she quickly set to scheming ways to throw her second daughter and Mr. Darcy together, and had convinced herself that he had come early solely because of Elizabeth (though he hadn't any idea that she was even to be there).

"What an agreeable surprise! Take care, Lizzy, to dress with _exceptional_ care for Mr. Darcy!"

At such a comment, Mr. Collins, who was still standing nearby, directed a knowing glance at Elizabeth which the latter failed to comprehend. However, he was not done triumphing over his knowing their secret, so he proceeded to smirk at Jane, which made the eldest Miss Bennet look quite uneasy. None of this nonverbal discourse escaped Elizabeth's notice, though it only seemed to confuse and vex her increasingly. However, Mrs. Bennet was not so keen an observer, nor was she unhappy enough to be silent, so she continued to rail on about how very well it would be necessary for Elizabeth to look for Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth was quite disconcerted, as she wished her mother would not blurt such things out in front of the entire family. Keen on escaping such tiresome conversation, she quickly took Jane's arm and led her off up the small stairway at the end of the room.

"Now, Jane, you _must_ reveal to me the meaning behind the looks Mr. Collins was giving the both of us," demanded Elizabeth.

"What ever do you mean?" asked Jane innocently.

"You are the worst liar I know. You perfectly comprehend my meaning. I simply must know."

"Why do you suppose I know any—?"

"You undervalue my talents of observation. _I_ saw how his immovable smirk distressed you."

"Lizzy—I will tell you—but pray, let us go to our bedroom. And you must promise to not be angry."

"It is impossible for me to be angry with someone with so much sweetness as you, Jane," Elizabeth assured her sister.

As Jane closed the door and joined her sister, who was already sitting on the bed, she was growing more vexed by the moment. It was the very thing which she had wished to not tell her most! At that moment, she probably felt the closest thing to resentment that she had ever felt towards Mr. Collins. Secrets were such terrible things, especially when they had to be revealed! She quickly grabbed her needlework off the side table so that she might not have to see her sister's immediate reaction when she had finished explaining.

"Do you remember Mary's wedding?" began Jane, consoling herself with thoughts that it would at least take no great amount of time to enlighten Elizabeth.

"Of course; but what has this got—?"

"It relates perfectly, believe me. Now, do you remember the conversation you had with Charlotte and me privately?"

"You mean when I explained—?"

"Yes," said Jane decisively, but could not gather the courage to communicate the most important information pertaining it.

"Jane? What is it?" pleaded Elizabeth, burning with curiosity.

"Mr. Collins heard it—all of it," said Jane quietly.

Elizabeth went pale immediately; Mr. Collins, to know of her darkest secret and greatest lie! And she recalled with horror the particular things that she had said of _him_! What he must have thought of her—what he must still think of her! And then she recalled that very night, saying to Jane how very vexing it would be if someone such as Mr. Collins _had_ overheard it! Now the nervous laughter which was Jane's response to this was perfectly understood. It was the last person she would have ever wished to have confided in! Oh, and Lady Catherine probably knew everything of it!

"You discovered this how?" asked Elizabeth nervously.

"When you left, I saw him; and he told me then that he had heard," explained Jane, then quickly added, "but do not vex yourself! He promised me of his secrecy!"

"Confiding in Mr. Collins is like—is like—trying to hide some information by hanging it on a great giant sign," said Elizabeth uneasily, not quite sure if her analogy was all that clever.

"I must disagree. Has Mr. Collins ever proved himself to be incapable of secrecy?"

"Well—no—I suppose not; but he does not seem the sort—to keep a secret."

"People will do many things which they do not seem to be '_the sort_' to do," said Jane bitterly, with tears welling in her eyes. Elizabeth easily comprehended to whom she referred. She quickly offered her apologies, and then swiftly changed the subject to something light and indifferent.

Elizabeth was in a most distressing situation. Her conscience was constantly weighing on her mind for what she had said to her mother that fateful evening after the Netherfield Ball; and there was Mr. Collins to have known of it for a long while! And still Elizabeth could hardly pity her mother for having been deceived, for _she_ was acting in such a wild manner concerning Mr. Darcy that Elizabeth was thoroughly convinced that only her mother's death could possibly get her to be serene and anything close to rational. And then there was Mr. Darcy himself! Such odd behavior and questionable motives! She did not believe her circumstances could possibly be any worse.


	14. In Mrs Bennet's Favor

**Chapter Fourteen: In Mrs. Bennet's Favor**

Elizabeth could not look at Mr. Collins in the eye for the remainder of the day. The mortification of _his_ knowing it all had not yet cooled off; and though she supposed she could not keep acting so much longer, she consoled herself by assuming that the said gentleman surely knew why it was that he was being shunned.

Jane was, perhaps, the only one in the entire household— nay, all of the world—who knew of Elizabeth's discomfort. Mrs. Bennet was much too happy about visiting Rosings and the ball in Westerham, as were Kitty and Lydia (though _their_ pleasure was derived mostly from the latter, and barely at all from the former, despite a bit of curiosity to meet Colonel Fitzwilliam). Mr. Bennet, as solicitous as he usually was for Elizabeth, could not notice either; for he was too much trying to find peace amongst all of the anxiousness and chaos, that the largest favor he could do for anyone was to shut himself up in Mr. Collins' library, as he did not infrequently do at Longbourn. Mr. Collins was not clever enough to suppose that Elizabeth was suspicious at all of his overhearing her private conversation, or if she was, that her eldest sister had informed her of it long ago; for his vanity led him to believe that the moment she learnt of it, she would be so ashamed that she could not avoid apologizing to him for half an hour straight (as he undoubtedly would have done in such a situation). And even though Mary was a great studier of human nature, her studies were mostly confined to that of books on the topic, or people with whom she was little acquainted with; for there could certainly be nothing at all exciting in studying one's own sister. And she was also principally occupied in maintaining Hunsford, and doting on her husband, as he undeniably enjoyed since it inflated his ego yet further.

The morrow, which brought on a fresh visit to Rosings, came much more quickly than Elizabeth would have liked, though much more slowly than Mrs. Bennet would have liked. Elizabeth hadn't enough time to wallow in her misery before proceeding on to indulge herself in a bit more of it—Mrs. Bennet hadn't had enough time to order Elizabeth a new white dress in order to impress Mr. Darcy.

Had Mrs. Bennet been aware of the feelings of Mr. Darcy, however, she would not have been plotting to give a fashionable white dress to her second daughter, but have her wedding clothes already ordered.

It was gloomy, dark, and raining a little when the Bennets and Collinses were destined to go to Rosings; and Elizabeth had great hopes of the engagement being postponed; but Lady Catherine, being as condescending and affable as she was, sent over a carriage for them all to go in. Mr. Collins was already rehearsing his thanks on the way there, and Mrs. Bennet frequently alluding to the subject of her favorite person at that moment, which was, of course, Mr. Darcy. She mentioned it so often that no one was any longer surprised of its being brought up; and even Kitty and Lydia had grown tired of teasing Elizabeth on the subject. Elizabeth could barely comprehend her sudden change in sentiments towards the man; the only time she had ever liked him was that brief period between when Elizabeth had told the infamous lie and the Netherfield party's departure. After that, it had quickly sunk into resentment, with Elizabeth receiving more pity than was her due; but so soon as the opportunity was given for a chance for Elizabeth to 'win back' his heart, Mrs. Bennet became very much the gleeful matchmaking woman she ever was.

"Don't do that!" snapped Mrs. Bennet on observing Elizabeth fiddling with her hair as the carriage drove through the rain, "your hair will be in ruins!"

Elizabeth hid her scowl at such a comment. She had done little but sit and have her hair styled all of the day, and try on her entire wardrobe before Mrs. Bennet was satisfied with her appearance. She was almost considering informing her mother that Mr. Darcy would never notice her no matter _what_ she looked like, but supposed that such a comment would have no effect. She would receive praise only for her humility, and then be ordered to remove the raggedy garment which she dared to call a dress.

Elizabeth thought she looked ridiculous—she had dressed with care for the Netherfield Ball, but never had she cared so much for her appearance as _this_. Her dress was Jane's—white—and made of muslin. Her hair was made up in an elegant coiffure, with so many ornaments that she was sure she would be completely incapable of moving silently. Lydia and Kitty were Elizabeth's only consolation; for they were the only ones dolled up enough to distract the rest of the party's attention from Elizabeth's extravagance of dress.

The carriage pulled up the drive of Rosings Hall, with Mr. Collins remarking how well the building looked even in the midst of such disagreeable weather. When the carriage had drawn to a stop, Elizabeth quickly stepped out, and, when she was certain of her mother's not looking in her direction, slipped off to another part of the entryway. She was feeling quite uncomfortable because of her excess of jewelry, and was hastily removing a pearl necklace, when she saw a shadow move towards her. She quickly turned about, and saw a man standing before her; not one she recognized. She was rather tall, and had a cheerful enough countenance, though he was not at all handsome; and Elizabeth supposed that he must have been Colonel Fitzwilliam. She quickly curtseyed, and the gentleman returned the civility with a bow, though obviously stifling a laugh.

"Miss Bennet?" he asked. She nodded.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam," he said, confirming her suspicion; "and what are you doing?"

Elizabeth smiled, and explained, "I am removing some of the gaudy jewelry that my mother forced me to wear."

"Indeed? Well, I cannot say I can relate to your dilemma—but perhaps I can be of assistance?"

"If you would be so kind!" said Elizabeth warmly, removing some of her hair ornaments, "Perhaps you could leave these somewhere?"

Colonel Fitzwilliam declared his willingness for such a scheme, and took the jewelry from her hands, placing it into a nearby room, with gracious thanks from Elizabeth. The rest of the party was nearly assembled by this time; and, the only discourse which there was time for afterwards was Colonel Fitzwilliam asking:

"But what if your mother notices?" And then, answering his own question before Elizabeth had an opportunity to reply, added, "But I will just tell them that Mr. Darcy stole it."

"That would make my mother happier than you can imagine," murmured Elizabeth as they rejoined the party. They both received a few curious looks from having entered from a separate room together; but, without any interrogation, Lady Catherine proceeded to introduce Colonel Fitzwilliam to all of the guests.

They then proceeded to the dining parlor, where food was ready to be eaten, and Elizabeth overheard Lydia whisper to Kitty:

"Colonel Fitzwilliam; ugly fellow, isn't he?"

"Aye; but I dare say we shall meet _handsome_ officers at the ball!" responded Kitty, which caused both to begin incessantly giggling. Elizabeth nudged Kitty's arm and directed a warning look towards her, which luckily encouraged them to become silent pretty soon.

When they all entered the dining parlor, Mrs. Bennet managed to arrange it in such a way (for she was very good at such schemes) that Elizabeth had no choice but to sit next to Mr. Darcy. To Elizabeth's relief, however, Colonel Fitzwilliam sat across from her, so that she might direct her attention towards him instead of his disagreeable cousin.

"Mr. Darcy tells me you play and sing, Miss Elizabeth," said Colonel Fitzwilliam.

"It is true, though very poorly," Elizabeth admitted.

"Really?" replied the Colonel, looking at his cousin suspiciously, "I should never have supposed it to be so according to my cousin's account."

"Miss Elizabeth is surely afflicted with false modesty," said Mr. Darcy.

Mrs. Bennet, who was sitting next to Colonel Fitzwilliam, could not help but overhear it all, and thought it a perfect opportunity for her to contribute.

"Ah! My Lizzy is a very excellent player, indeed; such good taste, good taste! Always practices so hard, too—"

"Mama, we are surely not speaking of the same Elizabeth. I rarely practice," said Elizabeth, which was pretty much the truth.

"Rarely practice?" cried Lady Catherine, who happened to catch the latter part of the conversation, "You know, no excellence can be acquired without _constant_ practice. Does Georgiana get on well with her instrument, Darcy?"

"She plays very well," Mr. Darcy said. Lady Catherine then went on to have her share of another conversation.

"Ah!—you see, Miss Darcy undoubtedly practices frequently. When _you_ meet her, Lizzy—"

Elizabeth found this an opportune moment to put on a coughing fit, since she did not much like the direction in which the conversation was heading. How was she to ever keep her mother from embarrassing her without having grown hoarse by the end of the night! After she had finished, Mrs. Bennet had quite forgotten what she was speaking of, which satisfied Elizabeth.

"Are you all right, Miss Elizabeth? That was quite a bad fit of coughing," commented Mr. Darcy. Mrs. Bennet beamed at him.

"Perfectly well, I thank you!" said Elizabeth hastily, watching her mother carefully.

Mr. Darcy watched Elizabeth carefully all through dinner; he noticed the great amount of time she spent watching her mother, and blushing whenever she made a comment the least bit embarrassing (which was rather frequently), and quickly changing the subject directly afterwards. He could not help but pity her; though his aunt was not exactly the flower of courtesy either.

Afterwards, they all quitted to a drawing room, where card tables were assembled. Mrs. Bennet was attempting to persuade both Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth to join the table at which she sat, and had nearly gotten her way, when Elizabeth thought of a quick solution (which would hopefully not be the object of infinite regret months later).

"Ah! But I promised Colonel Fitzwilliam I would play the pianoforte! And I am sure that Mr. Darcy would much rather sit with his cousin," she said, gesturing to the sofa at which Colonel Fitzwilliam sat.

Mr. Darcy, who would much rather take Elizabeth's advice than her mother's, owned that he would much rather talk with Colonel Fitzwilliam. Mrs. Bennet, noticing how quickly he agreed with her daughter, and feeling that listening to someone sing (and sing well) was a certain step to falling in love, could not object, and satisfied herself with merely observing from a distance. She was, however, to be pleased, as Mr. Darcy almost invariably had his eyes fixed on Elizabeth. Yes, he was surely partial, she could observe it! She was an excellent matchmaker indeed!

The instrument as opened; and although Mary was eager to exhibit, Mrs. Bennet effectively detained her so that Elizabeth could play first. Her performance was by no means capital, though her voice was pleasant; however, it was not immaculate enough for Lady Catherine, and she was hastily offering her advice, though she could not play herself (but had the very best taste, and would have been a great proficient had she ever learnt, as would have Anne, who had better taste yet). Elizabeth mused that, if her mother and Lady Catherine were placed in a room by themselves, they might talk each other to death.

Elizabeth was applied to for a second song, and soon after she had begun, Colonel Fitzwilliam resolved on being her page-turner, with Mr. Darcy following closely behind.

"You mean to frighten me, Mr. Darcy, by coming in all this state to hear me? But I will not be alarmed though your sister does play so well. There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises with every attempt to intimidate me."

"I shall not say that you are mistaken," he replied, "because you could not really believe me to entertain any design of alarming you; and I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance long enough to know, that you find great enjoyment in occasionally professing opinions which in fact are not your own."

Such conversation continued on; descriptions of Mr. Darcy's ill-behavior at their first meeting at the assembly in Meryton were described to Colonel Fitzwilliam. He seemed highly amused by his cousin's behavior, as it seemed that it was made obvious he did not typically act in such a manner. It was soon put to an end by Lady Catherine demanding that she have a share of the conversation, and then once the song ended, Mary eagerly succeeded her sister at the instrument.

Elizabeth, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Mr. Darcy then all sat together at a grouping of sofas, as they did not have much other choice, and Mrs. Bennet would not have had it any other way. Mary began playing a concerto; immaculately performed, though with not so much expression as Elizabeth.

"Your mother does not notice your lack of jewelry," mused Colonel Fitzwilliam in a low tone, eyeing Mrs. Bennet. Elizabeth laughed heartily, though Mr. Darcy seemed quite confused by it all.

"Ah! My dear mother; she does mean well, though can get a little carried a way now and then; and has never been a very great observer, unless she particularly sets her mind to it," replied Elizabeth.

"So much the better," said Colonel Fitzwilliam with a shrewd smile; "though Mr. Darcy, I am sure, is quite puzzled by all of this."

"Oh, yes," said Elizabeth indifferently; "I shall explain it. My mother was determined to have me wear so much jewelry that I might not be able to walk properly; so I was in the midst of removing about half of it, when Colonel Fitzwilliam discovered me."

"Not very exciting when it is only being told," observed Colonel Fitzwilliam.

Their conversation carried on, as they spoke of their interests, though Colonel Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth did most of the talking. Mr. Darcy was studying Mrs. Bennet; noticing her follies, and her ridiculousness, and reminding himself of such reasons why he ought to not think anymore of Miss Elizabeth Bennet; though, it seemed this was becoming increasingly difficult. She was so lovely, so quick-witted! _He_ could detect that she was wishing, almost expecting his addresses; and to be so amiable in spite of having to put up with _such_ a mother. Ah—he could save her from her mother, as she had saved him from playing cards with her—but he could save her forever. But he quickly managed to shake away such thoughts, realizing he was getting a bit carried away with his reverie, and tried in vain to focus on the conversation.

The evening passed away agonizingly slow for Elizabeth; and when it _was_ time they left, Lady Catherine insisted on its being delayed. The rain had worsened, and was much more like a storm; surely they had better wait to go; but Elizabeth was determined on leaving. The storm wasn't so bad; it might only become worse if they waited; but Lady Catherine was insistent, and no one else so much opposed to it either. They could stay the night; Rosings was large enough to accommodate them all.

Elizabeth would have rather walked home, in her white dress, and have risked catching cold, than stay the night at Rosings, and was on the verge of offering it up, though she realized that no one would have agreed; and if she seemed _too_ eager to go, it might be a bit rude.

Mrs. Bennet managed to persuade Elizabeth to the scheme, who was perhaps the most adamant on accepting the invitation—perhaps more so than even Mr. and Mrs. Collins. But Elizabeth had already fixed on it being the most miserable night she would ever spend, and would not get a wink of sleep.


	15. Blushing

**Chapter Fifteen: Blushing**

Jane and Elizabeth, after the party had been shown to their guest rooms, walked arm-in-arm through one of the seemingly endless halls of Rosings. All of the hallways were unnecessarily large and with plenty of furniture to make walking about more difficult than it should have been. In fact, it was all quite like an echo chamber, and a bit difficult for each to understand the other, and more difficult yet to whisper without being heard by others.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam is very agreeable," commented Jane as she stared up into the ceiling, which very well could have been fused with the sky.

"Ah! For once, I agree," cried Elizabeth genially, "Though I would still rather be back at Hunsford."

"To be sure, there is something a bit —cozier—about Hunsford."

"Rosings reminds me very much of a museum," observed Elizabeth, glancing at one of the various tapestries hanging on the walls.

Mr. Collins came charging past them, scarcely noticing they were even there, because he was so pleased to have the honor of sleeping in the very same house as Lady Catherine. He, unlike the two eldest Miss Bennets, seemed to find the reverberation of the hallways a source of amusement and delight, instead of an annoyance.

"I think I should get lost if we walk about much longer in this manner, Jane!" said Elizabeth; "Say, why don't we go into this room?"

She gestured to one of the many identical doors which lined the hallway. Jane immediately stated her acquiescence, and the two sisters entered. It was a large parlor into which they entered, with large picture windows facing full west. Elizabeth observed the rain pounding against the windows and blackness outside, and was contemplating on which of the many elaborate sofas she might choose to sit, when she caught the eye of a gentleman sitting at one of the tables and browsing through a letter—Mr. Darcy. He looked up, stared at her, and unconsciously folded his letter closed. Jane and Elizabeth greeted him, apologizing for having disturbed his privacy; and Elizabeth was fully prepared to take her sister by the arm once more and drag her off, till Mr. Darcy began to speak with them. It was very tiresome, his beginning conversations when she would most wish to leave!

In fact, the thoughts of both Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth were of a similar topic, though with opposing sentiments. Elizabeth, on seeing Mr. Darcy, thought something to the effect of, _Oh God! Kill me now!_ And Mr. Darcy, thinking that Elizabeth looked absolutely angelic, thought, _I must have died and gone to heaven!_ Jane was completely oblivious to any of these thoughts, and was only feeling sorry for her sister, who did not seem to take very much pleasure in their stay at Rosings.

"Pleasant weather we're having," said Mr. Darcy absently, as she was intent on studying Elizabeth's face so that he might be able to have Georgiana draw it for him, if he could recall it well enough. His comment was accompanied by a loud roll of thunder.

"Not really," said Elizabeth, staring out the window.

"Oh!" said Mr. Darcy, recovering, "No, I suppose not."

Several more awkward moments passed, before Elizabeth and Jane excused themselves, and headed off to discover another over-furnished and extravagant room. Mr. Darcy reseated himself at the large writing table where he had been reading over his sister's latest letter, and reopened it. He had not read above two paragraphs when Colonel Fitzwilliam entered, and seated himself down on a nearby sofa.

"You wished to speak to me?" asked the Colonel. Mr. Darcy folded his letter up again and nodded.

"About—?" continued Colonel Fitzwilliam, as his cousin had offered no explanation as to why he had requested a private audience with him.

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet," responded Darcy matter-of-factly.

"She is a charming girl, to be sure; but why on earth should you wish to talk to me about her in confidence?"

"Because _I_ also believe that she is very charming."

Colonel Fitzwilliam stared at his cousin, completely oblivious as to what point was attempting to be made. Mr. Darcy, however, seemed to be waiting for Colonel Fitzwilliam to guess what it was that he wished to say, as he was equally silent. The Colonel mused as to what he could possibly mean, when he thought of only one explanation (which seemed entirely ridiculous to him at the time) that made any sense at all.

"What? You and Miss Elizabeth are secretly engaged?"

"No," replied Mr. Darcy, coloring, "but—"

Colonel Fitzwilliam began to laugh. He was surprised that he hadn't come to the conclusion before, seeing at how uncharacteristically foolish Mr. Darcy acted before the lady being discussed; and he had never supposed his cousin to of a _jealous_ disposition!

"But you are in love with her; ah, you see, I comprehend you perfectly, Darcy. You wish me to keep away from her because she is '_yours_', no?"

Mr. Darcy sheepishly nodded, and then added sadly, "Though she is not _mine_."

"Ah! But do not fear; for you know that I could never afford to marry somebody without _some_ consequence, unfortunately. Granted, she is lovely."

"Of course," said Darcy quietly, now embarrassed by his having even introduced such a topic. Then, seizing his sister's letter, held it up and announced, "I received a letter from Georgiana today."

_(A/N: Scene inspired by Erkith's suggestion—thanks! XD)_

Later that evening, Elizabeth and Jane had had the misfortune of crossing paths with Mrs. Bennet, who was as giddy as could be expected. She immediately began to speak of Mr. Darcy.

"Well, Lizzy! How sweetly this has all worked out! The most agreeable arrangement in the world! And Mr. Darcy here too! Ah! Did you see the way he dotes on you? And stared at you half the evening, I dare say! Oh! Why, here he is now!"

Mrs. Bennet rushed over to Mr. Darcy, who was entering from down the hallway, and who also had the misfortune of crossing paths with Mrs. Bennet. Jane and Elizabeth, sensible of the embarrassment she would undoubtedly cause them both, quickly followed their mother. She took no time in lavishing upon him unnecessary attention, which, at the beginning of their acquaintance, she would not have done over anybody's dead body.

"And here is Jane and Lizzy! Well, Mr. Darcy, does not my Eliz—" began Mrs. Bennet.

"Why, Mama, look over there!" interrupted Elizabeth, gesturing to a writing table situated in the corner of the parlor, "does that not look exactly like the one in the drawing room at Longbourn?"

Mrs. Bennet studied the writing table hastily, which in fact bore no resemblance at all to the one the Bennets owned (with the exception of their both being writing tables), and cried,

"Why, it does not look one bit like it! You have not been gone so long that you have forgotten what the furniture looks like? Oh dear! You see, Mr. Darcy: Elizabeth, before she came here, was gone to Lon—"

"—so, it does not look like it!" said Elizabeth with mock astonishment.

"But," added Jane pensively, "the chair next to it does look a bit quite like ours."

"Indeed!" cried Elizabeth. Mr. Darcy observed this all with amusement, and, deciding he might be of some assistance in distracting Mrs. Bennet, as that seemed to be their goal, said,

"There is enough furniture in Rosings that one is sure to find a piece bearing resemblance to their own."

"It is so, Mr. Darcy, it is!" said Mrs. Bennet cheerfully; "and what a lovely, imposing place this is! It is undoubtedly very similar to Pemberley?"

Mr. Darcy smiled, and responded, "Not at all."

Mrs. Bennet was quite stumped with this reply; for she could not think of a way to add that Elizabeth would undoubtedly like Pemberley very much without inevitably insulting Rosings, and its proprietor's taste.

"The ceilings—are very high," said Jane, so that her mother might not have too much time to think.

"Very high," agreed Elizabeth; "and the grounds are lovely."

"Yes! Lizzy does love her solitary walks! Though I am sure that she would never mind some _company_," said Mrs. Bennet, clearly addressing Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth blushed.

"But they would not be _solitary_ if I had company," pointed out Elizabeth.

"Well then! Perhaps you do not like solitary walks so much!" concluded Mrs. Bennet good-humoredly.

"I am very tired," said Jane and Elizabeth at the same time. They glanced at each other and smiled at the coincidence, and then each continued to explain that they had better get to bed. Elizabeth, however, recognized the danger of leaving her mother alone with Mr. Darcy, as she would probably give him some very alarming ideas, so she was sure to add,

"And you look very tired too, Mama. You will come back with us?"

"Ah! Yes, of course, I am quite fagged. Good night, Mr. Darcy," said Mrs. Bennet. All three ladies curtseyed, and Elizabeth eagerly took her mother's arm as she led her out of the room.

"Lizzy!" whispered Mrs. Bennet to Elizabeth a little too loudly, "You did not say good night to Mr. Darcy! Don't you want _practice_?"

"Mother!" scolded Elizabeth, mortified, and beginning to walk faster. Jane mentioned something about curtains, which succeeded in sufficiently distracting Mrs. Bennet till Mr. Darcy was out of sight (and ear-shot) as she envied the curtains of Rosings, and abused her own.


	16. Solitary Walks

**Chapter Sixteen: Solitary Walks**

Elizabeth stepped into a large breakfast parlor (which was, perhaps, smaller than most of the rooms in Rosings, though still larger than an entire floor in Hunsford), tired from sleep deprivation. She had not been at all comfortable with staying at Rosings, and was constantly listening for the sound of her mother rousing in the adjoining guestroom, so that she might find sufficient enough distraction for her. However, she had completely forgotten her task by this point, for she was weary, and the smell of hot food was really all that occupied her thoughts. She cared not for what Lady Catherine's opinion on education or dancing was, nor what elegant little compliments Mr. Collins had contrived to arrange in response to said opinions. She saw a table. She saw food. She wanted to eat, leave, and then go to sleep.

Servants who lined the room stepped forward to allow Elizabeth to sit, which she impatiently waited for them to do. Then, nearly forgetting all her manners, she began to eat, almost ravenously. Mr. Darcy, whose eyes had been studying her as soon as she had entered the room, and whose thoughts had centered around her for the past four-and-twenty hours, was a bit surprised to see such behavior, but found it a bit endearing all the same. She certainly was more courageous than her two youngest sisters, who were barely eating, and mostly cutting up their sausage into very small pieces and holding their silverware prettily. Mrs. Bennet observed her second daughter, and then observed Mr. Darcy observing her second daughter, and wasn't quite sure if this was the sort of attention she wanted Elizabeth to attract.

"Lizzy, for goodness sakes, you will surely choke if you do not eat a bit slower," scolded Mrs. Bennet. Elizabeth pretended not to hear; and it was probably only half-pretending, as she was barely conscious of what was around her. Disconcerted, Mrs. Bennet decided on settling for her Plan B, which was to distract Mr. Darcy from Elizabeth's less-than-ladylike table manners.

"Mr. Darcy! Did you observe what very nice weather we are having now? Why, one would never know that only yesterday it was raining and thundering with reckless abandon!"

"Indeed," said Mr. Darcy distractedly. It was rather an obvious statement, for the sunlight poured through the windows and onto the tables, and was almost a blinding for those unfortunate enough to be facing the windows.

Elizabeth quickly finished, with Mrs. Bennet continuing to make indifferent remarks (which really grew a bit irksome after a while), and yawned. Lady Catherine had just finished asking her a question, but Elizabeth had not noticed.

"Miss Elizabeth," said Lady Catherine severely.

"Hmm?" responded Elizabeth, mapping out an escape route from Rosings in her mind.

"I asked, was my accommodation to your liking?"

"Oh!—sorry—yes, very much so, thank you; very hospitable. Now, if you will excuse me," said Elizabeth, standing from the table and quickly curtseying, though she could not have been at the breakfast table above fifteen minutes. Lady Catherine murmured some disparaging remark of Elizabeth's lack of propriety as a servant held the door for her, which either no one else heard, or no one else chose to hear.

Elizabeth, deciding it might be straying a little _too_ far away from decorum to simply take off and walk to Hunsford, resolved on only taking a morning walk. The air was cool, and certainly the exercise would be invigorating, so that she might not fall asleep during the rest of the day's engagements. She found a path which led over some low, rolling hills, and bordered a small wood, which was to her taste. To be sure, the ground was a bit muddy from the rainstorm of the night before, but Elizabeth had never regarded mud all that much. If she kept to where the sun had been shining longest, she found that the trail was remarkably dry.

She came upon a large, old elm tree along the trail, with long branches stretching in every direction, and supposed that it might be an ideal place for her to take a quick rest, as she had walked round the house several times before she had come upon the trail, and was a bit winded. The tree had a convenient split down the center of its trunk, which made a perfectly adequate seat. Elizabeth yawned again, and, leaning her head against it, almost instantaneously fell asleep.

Mr. Darcy had been searching around the interior of Rosings Hall in vain for Elizabeth, hoping that he might "accidentally" meet her. However, he had no such luck. He recalled that she had seemed a bit tired, and had perhaps returned to her bedchamber; though he also recalled what Mrs. Bennet had told him about solitary walks the night before, and what Elizabeth herself had said on the subject. Since he had little else to do, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was in a nearby parlor conversing with Jane, he supposed that he might take a ramble about the park and see if he could not find her. When he exited, he found that there were vast mud puddles here and there, and the ground was very much saturated; but that had not kept her from walking three miles to Netherfield when her sister had been ill. He supposed that he had little chance of finding her, if she had taken a walk, in the vast property of his aunt; but, as he passed by the wood, noticed a patch of purple wildflowers. He leaned over to examine them more carefully, and recalled that Elizabeth had worn one in her hair when he had first discovered she was in Kent. With a small smile, he plucked one from its plant and tucked it into his waistcoat pocket.

He had been walking about for some time, and was nearly resolved on returning to the house, when he happened to look up at just the right time, and observed Elizabeth asleep, beside a tree. He wondered if he ought to wake her—she might be missed if she remained absent much longer—but she seemed so absolutely serene as she slept, and, in his opinion, something descended from the heavens. He carefully approached, examining her, and was relieved when she did not stir. After deciding that kidnapping her might not be an entirely advisable idea, he remembered the wildflower in his pocket, and produced it. He held it to her sleeping form, deciding that the soft shade of purple complimented her smooth, creamy complexion well. It seemed very natural, then, for him to place it in her hair. However, this _did_ cause her to stir; and, supposing he would not want to be discovered, quickly stood and hastily set off towards the house.

Elizabeth opened her eyes. She looked about groggily, only then recalling that she had fallen asleep beneath the tree. How long had she been there? She looked up towards the sky and saw that the sun was not in so very different a position; though it was much closer to midday than it had been when she had originally come upon the spot. She shifted her gaze back to her eye-level, though she felt something brush against the back of her hand. She looked down, and saw that a purple wildflower had fallen from her hair. She stared at it as it lay on the trail, contemplating where she had gotten it from. She did recall it—though she was certain it had been several days since she had harvested it. But, she could only vaguely remember breakfast, and therefore decided that she simply did not remember discovering it. She picked it up, shrugged, and put it back into her hair.

As she re-entered Rosings Hall, she was pleased that the hem of her dress was not very muddy at all. She looked about and saw Jane speaking with Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam. With a demure smile, she approached the three, and greeted them all.

"There you are, Lizzy! Where had you gone off to?" asked Jane innocently.

"I took a walk," explained Elizabeth.

"Of course—Mama was seeking you out, I believe. You were gone a long while."

"I do enjoy long walks," said Elizabeth, not entirely willing to confess that she had fallen asleep. This produced a curious look from Mr. Darcy which Elizabeth did not at all comprehend.

The subject then shifted to music, though Mr. Darcy could not help smiling to himself when he observed that the wildflower remained in her hair. Had she not noticed? But there was a looking glass just across from where they were all standing; surely she must have noticed. He flattered himself that she thought it looked well on her.

It was not long before one of Lady Catherine's carriages was ordered for the Bennets and Collinses, and they were soon setting off to return to the parsonage, much to Elizabeth's delight (and, inevitably, Jane's as well). Mrs. Bennet was in high spirits, Mr. Bennet not sorry to go (he had never had much of a taste for extravagance), Lydia and Kitty relieved (for they would no longer have to prance about like high-classed ladies), and Mr. and Mrs. Collins exceedingly gracious. They were all invited to dine at Rosings again the following week, which was gratefully accepted by Mr. Collins preceding a long speech on the merits of his esteemed patroness. Colonel Fitzwilliam handed the ladies into the carriage, and soon they were only a very short drive from Hunsford.

"What a splendid stay!" cried Mrs. Bennet; "I only wish that the weather had been foul again today! And to return to Rosings next week; I could not have wished for anything else. Especially since a _certain_ gentleman is staying there."

Mrs. Bennet looked earnestly at Elizabeth after her final comment, though the latter pretended not to hear, and began speaking to Jane.

"Lady Catherine! Ah!" said Mr. Collins; "The very best of patronesses! I could not have met with a better—my Mary and I are blessed with her happy manners quite constantly!"

"And she permitted me to practice on the pianoforte in the housekeeper's room," added Mary cheerfully, which was followed by many exultations from Mr. Collins.

Elizabeth was relieved to remove herself from the tiresome company of her relations when they had all returned, and even more so of that of those at Rosings (excepting Colonel Fitzwilliam). Colonel Fitzwilliam, she observed, had not been quite so attentive to her as he had been the day before; but she thought little of it, for they were slightly better acquainted now, and one could not make a first impression twice. But the worst of it, she believed, was now over; she had effectively evaded her mother's ill-judged comments, and was still in tact after almost a full twenty-four hours within the same walls as Lady Catherine, her daughter, and her disagreeable nephew, Mr. Darcy.

Jane then entered their bedroom, and passed a letter to Elizabeth, explaining that it was from Charlotte. She smiled, and quickly tore it open, eager to read any news from Hertfordshire from her most intimate friend.


	17. Indignation

**Chapter Seventeen: Indignation**

Mr. Bennet was, in most cases, obliged to be the philosopher of a situation; and the present one was no exception. He was not deaf to the wild suppositions and comments of his spouse. He had not been certain that her convictions were very well-founded, as they hardly ever were; but, he was considering that perhaps even Mrs. Bennet struck it right every now and then. He was certainly very unwilling initially to suppose Mr. Darcy partial to his favorite daughter, Elizabeth; he could not believe that any man was worthy of her, and had always thought Mr. Darcy very disagreeable. But, as he fulfilled his duty of the observer, he could not but feel that he judged, with an objective eye, that perhaps Mr. Darcy truly was besotted with his second daughter. It was not at all improbable, as he was certain his dear Elizabeth possessed qualities which would charm and bewitch any man; he had just not supposed that this man would be the proud Mr. Darcy. All of his mannerisms, looks, and inclinations were those of a lover. He stared a bit too long at Elizabeth, stood a little too closely to her, and even smiled at her jokes (which was a considerable feat, as there was little that could induce him to not appear solemn and taciturn). He had originally, upon this discovery, found that it almost made him angry; but after several weeks' trepidation, he began to come to terms with it.

Mr. Darcy certainly did have his merits, especially of his station in life, which Mrs. Bennet was hasty to point out; and he had never acted in such a way which Mr. Bennet thought was disgraceful or disloyal. He had distinguished his having a real regard for Elizabeth; and if he truly did love her, and Elizabeth were prevailed on to accept him, he felt that he could not possibly decline. However, he _was_ left in some doubt to if Elizabeth _returned_ Mr. Darcy's affections. He was not willing to quarrel over that aspect with Mrs. Bennet, because he had, in a momentary lapse of good judgment, mentioned his doubts to his wife—doubts which were violently contradicted. Mrs. Bennet went so far as to say that Elizabeth had confessed to her that she was in love with Mr. Darcy; but Mr. Bennet could hardly believe it; for she had _also_ said, several years back, that he had promised to fund a holiday to Scotland, which he had certainly never done. He was fully aware that Elizabeth was skeptical of her mother's ability to keep a secret (so such would prevent her from _telling_ a secret), and thought that such skepticisms were also rightly founded.

Mr. Bennet flattered himself that he had raised his daughter well enough to make good decisions; and therefore, was not in fear of her accepting Mr. Darcy, if he did pay his addresses to her, for solely mercenary purposes. He reflected with a bit of dissatisfaction that she had daily proof of the effects of an unequal marriage; and would certainly never wish upon his favorite daughter the situation to which he had willingly sentenced himself. As he sat in his library, deep in reflection, he found that he could be quite satisfied; and though he had a more moderate stance than his wife, could find a match between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth perhaps agreeable.

The Westerham Ball had been much anticipated by Mrs. Bennet and the two youngest Miss Bennets; and now that the night was upon them, nothing could satisfy them other than talk or preparation for the ball. It was not to be grand, nor with many who traveled in first circles; but there would be gentlemen dancing with ladies, and that was enough to excite the interest of Kitty and Lydia. Mrs. Bennet had taken it upon herself to persuade Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam (though especially the former) to attend, and had found her task surprisingly easy, despite Elizabeth's warnings that Mr. Darcy hated balls. But, when Elizabeth looked back on her arguments afterwards, she found that he certainly would have had to oblige her eventually, if only to keep her from raving on about the benefits of dancing, and allusions to his dancing with Elizabeth.

Elizabeth felt that their engagement at Rosings the previous week had gone off remarkably well; she had prevented her mother from saying anything which might be completely improper (as most of her remarks did border on what was proper), and had found that almost everyone was in very good humor, despite Miss de Bourgh's never being inclined to speak. They happened upon the Rosings party again at church, where afterwards she observed Mr. and Mrs. Collins engaging in lively conversation with Lady Catherine, which seemed much to the interest of the latter. What they spoke of, Elizabeth was not certain, though she did not imagine it to be of any harm; but so invigorating did the subject seem, that even Mrs. Bennet felt that she ought to add her own commentary. After this happy party had broken up, then, Lady Catherine approached Elizabeth herself, and, with a sly smile, invited her to take tea with her on Thursday of the following week. Elizabeth knew not what to attribute this singling out, this distinction; and she knew not whether to be flattered, or to mistrust its meaning. Mrs. Bennet, however, appeared to be expecting it according to her behavior as they all walked back to the parsonage, and found that it was something to derive pleasure from. And though Elizabeth was highly curious as to what she could attribute this private invitation to, managed to think the best of it with some encouragement from Jane, and could withhold her curiosity enough to enjoy herself in Kent.

Elizabeth had a regular correspondence with Charlotte; she had found that nothing remarkable occurred in Hertfordshire, though could not ignore Charlotte's frequent mention of a Mr. Bathurst, who was apparently staying with some relations in Meryton for a month or so.

"Well!" cried Lydia, emerging from her dressing-room with her hair half done in curls, "What an agreeable night we shall all have! Dancing, music, food; what more could one wish for? Kitty and me were just saying how much we should like to meet some young men. We have seen nothing but the de Bourghs and Lady Catherine's nephews lately! Very tiresome, and do not seem inclined for dancing at all! Mary was even playing a lively tune on the pianoforte (which is does not occur very often, you know), and neither Mr. Darcy nor Colonel Fitzwilliam asked one of us to dance! We were excessively disappointed. But la! There shall be so much dancing tonight; and I hope to dance till I can no longer stand! And when we were all shopping the other day, I declare that I saw some _very_ handsome young men."

Elizabeth smiled at her sister's comments, but did not have much to say on the subject. She found that a ball would be invigorating, and a good way to get out for a night; but on the negative, she found that she would probably know next to no one; and might be requested to dance by Mr. Collins, who had proven himself to be no proficient on _that_ head. She did hope that Colonel Fitzwilliam might be prevailed on to ask her to dance; knowing him better only improved her opinion of him, and he seemed to pay particular attention to Jane. She did not fancy that he was in love with her, but certainly seemed to prefer her best of herself and her sisters; but supposed that a bit of a rendezvous with Colonel Fitzwilliam might allow her sister to think less of Mr. Bingley. No, she could discern no love; but perhaps a preference?

It was not long before a carriage was ordered for them all, and they were on their way to the ball. Elizabeth had had little choice in her apparel; her mother had ordered her a white dress, as promised, and Mrs. Bennet would not hear of her not wearing it. Her mother's character left a bit wanting (especially when tact is considered), but she certainly did have good taste in dresses. If it was something trifling that could aid her in matchmaking, she was sure to be excellent with it; though if it was anything of _true_ importance, she was wholly without talent.

The carriage pulled up to the assembly hall, and soon all were entering inside. It was not unlike the assembly hall in Meryton; there was a small group of musicians assembled upon a balcony; and though it was certainly a little overcrowded, the air was quite cheery and festive. Lydia and Kitty immediately spotted a handsome young man who nearly encompassed all of the good physical qualities which a man could possess for them—in fact, all he needed were regimentals to have him be the perfect object of desire. They ran over, and demanded an introduction; though Elizabeth walked on with Jane, searching about for a familiar face.

They soon both came upon Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam; and Elizabeth was almost happy to see even the former, for at least he was known to her. They greeted each other with the utmost civility, and stood about and chatted for a little, till it was nearly time for the first dance to begin.

"Would you do me the honor of the first two dances, Miss Elizabeth?" asked Mr. Darcy politely. Elizabeth was contemplating an excuse, when she perceived Mr. Collins approaching, and, finding that although Mr. Darcy might not have been the most agreeable partner she could have acquired, he could certainly dance ten times better than Mr. Collins.

"Yes," she said hastily, relieved to have escaped her cousin. Colonel Fitzwilliam accordingly asked Jane to dance, which was gratefully accepted.

It had been circulated around the room by this time that Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy were nephews of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who was established among Westerham's citizens to be very wealthy, and very respectable. There were many who were envious of the Bennet sisters, then, when they observed the two eldest Miss Bennets standing up with the two aforementioned gentlemen; and there were a great many whispers, and suppositions, as this was seen. They did, indeed, visit their aunt every Easter; but never had they been prevailed on to attend a public ball, till this very year; and many of the women whose characters were not unlike Mrs. Bennet's thought that they must have come only because of Jane and Elizabeth.

Gossip, it is known, is typically without sufficient foundation, and typically ridiculous; but this piece of gossip was in fact not so very far from the truth. Mr. Darcy, as Elizabeth had once informed her mother, hated balls, especially public ones, and would never have even considered the idea had he not known that Miss Elizabeth was to attend. Colonel Fitzwilliam was not so much inclined; he had never fancied any idea of marrying Miss Jane Bennet; and only distinguished her because the two eldest sisters were the only ones with any sense, and his cousin had made it quite clear to him that Miss Elizabeth was out-of-bounds.

The two half-hours which Elizabeth was confined to the company of Mr. Darcy, and any other surrounding people, were spent tolerably well. There was awkward conversation, as could be expected, and Mr. Darcy was really too bewitched by Elizabeth's mere presence to think entirely correctly. Mrs. Bennet, however, had the advantage of looking on, and could not have asked for anything to give her more delight. Ah! She knew how it would be! She wanted only a confidant among the other participants of the ball so that she might boast of her good fortune in finding a very eligible suitor for her daughter.

When the two dances had ended, Elizabeth declared that she was a bit tired, and wished to sit down, and so she did. She was surprised to see Mr. Darcy then standing up with Jane, as she could not have imagined him exerting himself to dance with anyone—though he had asked herself, as he had at the Netherfield Ball—but she found it better to not bother herself by thinking of his intentions. She was soon joined by Colonel Fitzwilliam, who said warmly,

"What an excellent ball this is! I do not know why either Darcy or I have never come to this place before. I have already been introduced to a Miss Smith, who seems very agreeable. In fact, I probably would not have gone, if it had not been for Darcy supposing it would be a good idea; I am at his disposal, you know."

Elizabeth was quite diverted by Mr. Darcy's attempting to persuade _anyone_ to attend a ball, when he disliked the amusements so much himself. What was less surprising to her, though, was Colonel Fitzwilliam's being at his disposal; for she had observed that he seemed to enjoy having someone as such, whether it was Mr. Bingley or Colonel Fitzwilliam.

"I _can_ imagine your cousin bringing you down with him chiefly for the sake of having somebody at his disposal. I wonder he does not marry, to secure a lasting convenience of that kind. But, perhaps his sister does as well for the present, and, as she is under his sole care, he may do what he likes with her," replied Elizabeth.

Colonel Fitzwilliam's reply was to enlighten her that he was joined with Mr. Darcy in the guardianship of Georgiana Darcy. Elizabeth persisted to tease him on Miss Darcy being troublesome, as she imagined that she truly was so if Mr. Wickham's word was at all trustworthy. This seemed to disconcert the Colonel a bit; but Elizabeth hastily assured him she had never heard any harm of her, and that she was a great favorite with Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley. Colonel Fitzwilliam, on being asked, said that he was acquainted with Mr. Bingley a little; and agreed Mr. Darcy took a prodigious deal of care of him, and that he believed Mr. Bingley to be very much indebted to Mr. Darcy (though he could not ascertain that Mr. Bingley was an involved party).

"What is it you mean?" asked Elizabeth with the utmost curiosity.

Colonel Fitzwilliam then informed her that (assumingly) Mr. Bingley had gotten himself into a bit of a scrape the previous summer, and was rescued by Mr. Darcy from an imprudent marriage. This began to make Elizabeth feel a little uneasy, as she observed her sister and Mr. Darcy coming down the dance; and then, after further inquiries, learned that there had been "strong objections against the lady", and though he knew nothing else, found that this was enough to make her a little angry. Her heart swelling with indignation, Colonel Fitzwilliam asked as to why she appeared so thoughtful.

"I am thinking of what you have been telling me," responded she. "Your cousin's conduct does not suit my feelings. Why was he to be the judge?"

"You are rather disposed to call his interference officious?"

"I do not see what right Mr. Darcy had to decide on the propriety of his friend's inclination, or why, upon his own judgment alone, he was to determine and direct in what manner that friend was to be happy." "But," she continued, recollecting herself, "as we know none of the particulars, it is not fair to condemn him. It is not to be supposed that there was much affection in the case."

"That is not an unnatural surmise," said Fitzwilliam, "but it is lessening the honor of my cousin's triumph very sadly."

This was spoken jestingly; and Elizabeth, realizing that she would have to contain some of her sentiments, swiftly changed the subject, though she could not quite look at Mr. Darcy the same way the rest of the evening. And though she had entered the ballroom in tolerably good spirits, she departed feeling slightly betrayed. To have ruined her sister's and friend's chance for happiness, and not feel the least bit of regret! To go so far as to then be perfectly easy in dancing with poor Jane! Was _that_, perhaps, his form of reconciliation? She was sorry to be only within a short walk from where he stayed. But, she could not allow herself to completely sink into low spirits—Jane, at least, would notice, and she did not wish to explain—and she could still anticipate her invitation with Lady Catherine, which, if not ending up to be an entirely pleasant experience, promised to be somewhat amusing.


	18. The Consequences of Lies

**Chapter Eighteen: The Consequences of Lies**

Thursday came. Elizabeth was not entirely distressed to once again put herself in the way of Mr. Darcy, as the period between the end of the Westerham Ball and that Thursday allowed some time for her emotions to cool. She had certainly not forgive him—how could she ever?—but she imagined that she could now meet with him and feel nearly as indifferent as before. She reconciled her feelings in that Jane seemed to be improving; she was a bit more talkative than she had been before, and only looked truly unhappy in those periods of long reflection when one becomes detached to a conversation, which do, on occasion, occur.

Mrs. Bennet was eager to have her daughter look well for Lady Catherine and her nephews; and though she would not give a direct answer as to what Elizabeth could attribute the honor to, if her mother was not entirely mistaken, it would be something very delightful. However, due to only the indirect answers which she received, she supposed that her mother really hadn't any idea, and was only pleased that Mr. Darcy's aunt seemed to be distinguishing her to some extent. Mrs. Bennet, of course, always thought the best of a situation (at least, thought of which outcome would most suit her fancy), and imagined Mr. Darcy wishing to propose to Elizabeth, with his aunt's hearty commendation. Another daughter, married, and with ten thousand a year! She could think of nothing else. Mary, Mr. Collins, Mr. Bingley did not occupy her; it was all Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth.

After having finally gained the approval of her mother on her appearance, Elizabeth was sent off to Rosings with some especially cheerful adieus from Mrs. Bennet. It was a leisurely walk, and a fine day, and the solitude allowed her to organize her thoughts as she came upon Rosings Hall. She was not _afraid_ of Lady Catherine; only concerned as to what she might have to say. Ninety percent of what Lady Catherine spoke was words of reprimand and scorn, and she could not see why there should have been any exception on this occasion. At length, she entered the house, and was shown into the parlor in which she and her family were always received.

Elizabeth was surprised to see only Mr. Darcy and his aunt sitting. Colonel Fitzwilliam, Miss de Bourgh, and the latter's governess were absent; and Elizabeth ascertained almost immediately that something was amiss, judging by the scowl fixed on Lady Catherine's face. Mr. Darcy seemed quite as bewildered as she was (which was some consolation for Elizabeth to be not the only one ignorant).

"Miss Bennet," said Lady Catherine coldly, putting down her tea, though not offering either her nephew or Elizabeth any for themselves. There was a dramatic pause after these two words, as if Lady Catherine expected either of them to begin the subject which she had not-so-clearly alluded to; however, her two guests only stared blankly.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam and—" began Elizabeth, wanting to break some of the awkward and unwelcome silence.

"Yes, they are away," snapped Lady Catherine, seeming that each moment heightened her agitation, and then added: "Surely neither of you can be at a loss to assume as to why it is that I have called you here."

"No, indeed, your Ladyship, I cannot account for the honor at all," replied Elizabeth, bewildered. Mr. Darcy declared his acquiescence to Elizabeth's speech.

"Miss Bennet," said Lady Catherine again, pronouncing the words in very a similar manner as she had when she greeted Elizabeth, "I have spoken with your mother, and your brother and sister. _Now_ what have you to say?"

"Only that I am exceedingly confused! Pray, do tell me what it was they had to say!" cried Elizabeth, becoming slightly exasperated now.

"Aunt, I believe there is a misunder—" said Mr. Darcy, though he was promptly interrupted by a seemingly very angry Lady Catherine.

"There has been _no_ misunderstanding, Darcy. Indeed, _I_ believe I know much more than either of you are aware, as much as you may wish to pretend that you are ignorant of it all! I should be surprised that the both of you did not suppose that I should find out. If you do not confess the truth this very instance, I declare I shall be very angry. And you can already suppose _my_ opinion on the subject."

"The truth is, is that I have no idea what you are speaking of!" replied Mr. Darcy, somewhat angrily.

"Foolish! I am excessively disappointed in the both of you. Darcy, _I_ have known you since infancy—and Miss Bennet—although I did observe some lack of decorum in your behavior, I had never supposed you so bad. I will not be deceived by either of you any longer; I will not stand for this!"

It was clear that Mr. Darcy was shocked by this speech, with his complexion becoming of more heightened color with each word that his aunt pronounced. He could not bear to have Elizabeth abused so cruelly! It tore on his conscience, and he only wished that Elizabeth would not be too much offended! He would have stood up and left, there and then, with little intention of returning; but his curiosity was still overwhelming, and he was not so mean as to leave poor Elizabeth in the clutches of Lady Catherine.

As both Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy were much too angry to reply, Lady Catherine found this sufficient encouragement to continue.

"Headstrong, foolish! How dare you continue on in this matter! Your conscience, surely, must tell you that _I_ know of your secret engagement."

"Secret engagement?" interrupted Elizabeth, never having heard anything more completely absurd in her entire life, "And my family told you this!"

"I assure you, Miss Bennet, it was implied in everything they said; they had no scruples in telling _me_ their feelings! And they expected me to approve! To approve of a marriage to a young woman of inferior birth, of no importance in the world! It is the most ridiculous thing in the world. To connect myself with _such_ a family as yours, Miss Bennet; did you _really_ expect me to approve?"

"And what if I _were_ engaged to Elizabeth?" asked Mr. Darcy, nearly shouting. Elizabeth stared at him, wondering if he was only trying to heighten his aunt's agitation further; _she_ had no desire to stay there one moment longer, but supposed that she would be sent away by force soon enough.

"So you do not deny it! And on first-name terms, as well! You are an unworthy boy, Darcy! Are you lost to every feeling of propriety and delicacy? Do you not recall your tacit engagement to _my_ daughter? We planned your union while you were in your cradles—preposterous!"

"The keyword is tacit," responded Mr. Darcy; "and you cannot prevent me from marrying whomever I choose!"

"But we are _not_ secretly engaged!" added Elizabeth, finding this absolutely necessary to say in order for Lady Catherine not to murder them both.

"Indeed! Well, it is not a secret any longer, is it?" snapped Lady Catherine viciously.

"_I_ have no idea whence this supposition of yours sprung," retorted Elizabeth, "but I assure you that it is wholly without foundation! I do not know what my family has said to you, but it has certainly never been established that I was engaged to Mr. Darcy! I have never been engaged to Mr. Darcy! I must beg, therefore, to be importuned no farther on the subject."

"Not so hasty, if you please!" cried Lady Catherine; "I have by no means done. Will you promise me—will you both promise me, if what Miss Bennet says is indeed the truth—to never enter into such an engagement?"

"I will make no promise of the kind!" divulged Mr. Darcy, standing now.

"You can have nothing further to say!" cried Elizabeth; "You have insulted me in very possible method. I must beg to take my leave."

And so Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy quitted the room, both fuming, as Lady Catherine continued making similar remarks (something to the effect of "so you are determined to have one another", though Elizabeth was not listening). It seemed perfectly natural, then, that as they were both very angry, that they should continue to walk together, and not pay the least bit of attention to where it was that they were headed; for misery loves company.

The nature of their anger, however, was entirely different. Elizabeth was offended that Lady Catherine should assume that they were engaged! That she would possibly be induced to marry someone who had ruined the prospects of poor Mr. Wickham, and destroyed her beloved sister's chance for happiness! It was absolutely ridiculous! Mr. Darcy, however, not so much minding the insults directed towards himself (for, in truth, he had never found all that much consequence in what his aunt said), but could not bear what she had said to Elizabeth. Poor, dear Elizabeth! To be insulted so abominably to her face! However, neither took much notice of the other, for they were both too much wrapped up in their own thoughts to notice anything or anybody around them.

How long had she been walking? Elizabeth hardly knew. She suddenly became conscious of everything around her; the wild landscape surrounding her, Mr. Darcy striding beside her. She suddenly stopped, realizing that she had to leave.

"I have to leave," she said abruptly, causing Mr. Darcy to accordingly stop.

"Miss Bennet," said her companion, though in a much softer tone than Lady Catherine had pronounced it, "I must tell you—"

"You must tell me later," said Elizabeth, the agitation of being provoked by Lady Catherine having not entirely worn off, "but what you must tell me now is how I may leave."

The tone of his voice, and what he had said to Lady Catherine—he had called her 'Elizabeth'—had all pieced themselves together by this point in Elizabeth's mind, and she found it quite alarming. She supposed that perhaps her mother was too clever for her! He had attended the ball in Westerham; asked her to dance on multiple occasions; and as unwilling as she was to admit it, it would seem that there was some preference. Had she not had all of this evidence laid out before her, it would have seemed the most improbable thing in the world; yet there it all was, for her observation. But she had thought she had acted, spoken plainly; could he not perceive her indifference? She had to leave; she had to reflect; and be alone.

Mr. Darcy did not seem as if he had expected such a response; and after a brief hesitation, gave her directions on how she might find the best route to the parsonage. But his heart was heavy; he knew that with his aunt's reproach, he would have no choice but to depart immediately; and might he ever see dear Elizabeth again! It seemed, as she turned to walk away, that he must reflect on all of their acquaintance, and expect it to continue no longer; that she may be forever fixed in his memory as the woman whom had been the tormenter of his soul; and nothing more. It did not seem sufficient. His head was satisfied; nothing could be better than to separate himself from her; but his heart would not allow him to.

"I am sorry," he said, causing Elizabeth to turn; "I am sorry for my aunt's behavior."

"Sir; it is not for us to choose whose blood we inherit. You can no more control your aunt's behavior than I control the behavior of _my_ relations."

Elizabeth fixed her eyes on Mr. Darcy, to see how he would bear her words. She knew too well that the conduct of her family, and her situation in life had influence over his discouraging Mr. Bingley from attaching himself to Jane. She had intended to cause him pain; to have him regret those disgusting principles which he had acted upon; yet Mr. Darcy interpreted as the highest praise. To not hold an immovable grudge against him due to what his aunt had said, to know that she did not hate him for it, seemed the perfect words with which to end their acquaintance. It was precisely what he felt he ought to have wished. And though Elizabeth was eager to depart, Mr. Darcy surprised her yet again. He strode closer to her, and lifted her hand to his lips. She was too much shocked by this act of gallantry to withdraw. She could sense by his touch that he was uneasy; his hands trembled, and his expression was nervous. His lips gently touched the back of her hand. Upon releasing her hand, he observed her surprised expression—Mr. Darcy resolved on it being the perfect image of Elizabeth which he hoped to have burnt into his memory forever—and, quickly turning away, began to leave himself.

As Elizabeth recalled the path that Mr. Darcy had instructed her to take, she could not help but suppose she could have never guessed the events of that morning to occur in such a manner as they did. She was shocked, angered by Lady Catherine's supposition; not even her own mother would have gone so far to assume such a thing; but equally confused and perturbed by Mr. Darcy's manners. There was something completely incomprehensible about him. All of his actions marked that he had the greatest disdain for others; yet all of his emotions seemed to portray a widely contradictory story! There was something very reserved, yet very vulnerable about him; and though Elizabeth was determined on hating him, there was also something which she found frustratingly endearing.


	19. The Heart Asks Pleasure First

_Author's Note:_ I haven't had anything at all to say until chapter 19! Imagine that. Anyway, this (or rather, the last chapter) marks where the story takes a bit of a turn, and goes down a darker path. I've tried to keep it "light" as long as possible, but everything that has happened heretofore has just been building up to this. It has been like water filling up a dam; and now the dam is beginning to burst. Okay, bad analogy. But this chapter probably won't be as—happy.

-----

**Chapter Nineteen: The Heart Asks Pleasure First**

_The heart asks pleasure first, _

_And then, excuse from pain…_

—_Emily Dickinson_

"Really?" cried Jane, on having communicated to her by Elizabeth all of the events of the previous day. She had never intended to keep it a secret—that would have been impossible—but she was grateful for having the remainder of the day previous to prepare herself for such a step. Elizabeth assured her sister that what she had informed her of was all true; and though she had not mentioned those things which suggested Mr. Darcy having an ulterior motive for staying at Rosings; it was all very astonishing in its own.

"But, Jane, I must ask you for advice. What is to be done now? I cannot possibly face Lady Catherine; surely, we cannot stay here?"

"Indeed! Oh, poor Lizzy! This is all very vexing. But it is actually Lady Catherine who has been in error; there is no need for resentment on _her_ part. If anger should remain, it can justly be only your own. Is this so bad that we must suspend the pleasures of all our family?"

"I am afraid that I must not allow you to make light of this situation. I have found the answer to my own question; we must go. But how is this important communication to be made to Mama and Papa? How shall I ever explain it?"

"I do not think there is any way," replied Jane sadly, "to evade explaining it in any manner more delicate than you have just explained to me. But so it must be done! Oh! I cannot bear to think of you suffering. I will accompany you; I will help. I know how Mama can be when such news is to be communicated; I may help soothe her. Her nervous disorders are not suited to such distress."

"Of course, you are right, Jane. Though you must not help—no—this is something, I feel, I must do alone. It has been through _my_ folly that these misunderstandings have occurred; and it must be through my actions that they are resolved. I have pitied myself till I spoke these very words; but it has become very clear that now I must reap the consequences of what I have done."

"Do not speak in such a way! It savors greatly of despair. But if you feel that justice may only be brought to the situation by your acting alone, then so it must be. Do not, however, be too hasty in letting this be known; allow for Mama to enjoy herself a day longer. She has been quite anticipating this day in Westerham for some time; it cannot be to anyone's disadvantage to delay."

"Upon my word, I shall not speak a syllable of it till the morrow. Haste has been my demise; and so I shall not try to mend its misfortunes with the same poison with which it was brought about."

"Oh, take care, Lizzy!"

"I must not go to Westerham today, however. I know that I have been shut up in this little room for some time now; but so my solitude must continue. I will be much more contented to have this day to myself. Will you tell Mama that I am ill with a headache, and must not go? But do not allow anybody to stay behind; I would very much wish to be alone."

"I shall do your bidding with all my heart!" cried Jane. She stood from the little chair by the window, gave her sister an affectionate embrace, and kissed her forehead.

Elizabeth watched her sister quit the room with some regret, though she found that she was glad to be once more alone after a while. She situated herself upon the seat in which Jane had previously sat, so that she might observe through the window the occurrences in the front of the cottage. After some odd minutes, she saw her family gather round the drive—was relieved to see them all present—and then, set off down the road in the direction of Westerham. She sighed as she watched them all go, thankful and melancholy in the same moment. Never more had she regretted those words that had escaped her mouth one fateful November night! It was not so much Lady Catherine's disapproval which vexed her; but it was that the rumor which she had supplied the foundation for had spread with no boundaries. She had deceived her own family, who in turn deceived others! And even Mr. Darcy must have been suspicious; suspicious of what had been intelligence of her mother and the Collinses; suspicious of what Elizabeth herself had told them. And so they must all leave—leave being scorned by all their acquaintance in Kent! How Mary and Mr. Collins must suffer for her own mistakes!

She soon wandered off into the parlor. The instrument had not been closed; it invited her to play, but her fingers felt as if they were made of lead. The day was uncannily bright, and offered her a walk; but it would not suit her! There laid _Fordyce's Sermons_ on the mantelpiece; but no advice did she want from words in a book. She could only console _herself_; _she_ could only choose what amends had to be made; she _only_ could will herself to inform her relations of what she had brought upon herself. She could not avoid the truth; she saw the consequences of lies!

And so she sat on the sofa, watching the embers of the fire die, with a very pensive expression. She thought nothing could disturb her reverie; yet she then heard the click of a door, the sound of approaching footsteps. Little did she know of the time, but it could not be that her family had returned so soon! She stood, and was prepared to dash off into a neighboring room, when the door was opened, and the servant announced,

"Mr. Darcy, miss."

And so the gentleman entered. He did not look easy; there was everything formal in his stance and his dress; but the unkemptness in his expression could not be concealed. Elizabeth was not in any humor to entertain, but she felt she could not spurn the man whom she had inadvertently caused distress. Certainly he would be more affected by the words of his aunt than she! Yet, she could not help but recall his abhorrence for his friends! For Mr. Wickham, who had been acquainted with him since infancy; and Mr. Bingley, whom he must have known was easily led! There arose a twinge of enmity; perhaps he deserved this! Perhaps fate would have it that though she would be burdened, he in turn would suffer for his unforgivable actions!

"I apologize if I have intruded on your privacy," he began, observing that she was quite alone.

"Apology is futile. Do be seated. I shall call for some tea."

"No, no thank you," he murmured, pacing the length of the room continually.

"I believe I can guess the purpose of your coming here," said Elizabeth.

"Can you?" replied he, stopping to look up at her with a hopeful expression.

"Perhaps; though I have never read you as well as I have others—but consider it a compliment. But I will tell you that I am humbled, I am grieved. Indeed, I do not blame you for demanding an explanation. Certainly you have wondered how it was your aunt ever had such a supposition planted in her mind; and I am ashamed to admit to be its source! You see, Mr. Darcy, when I have wronged somebody—and in this instance more than one—_I_ am willing to make amends."

After this speech, she looked to see how he would bear it. Once again, however, when she made such comments, he did not seem to notice what it implied. He did, however, look rather surprised; as if this was not what the information he had come to seek. Elizabeth feared now _what_ he had come to seek; and, realizing that she could not cease her explanation now, continued with a deep breath,

"In order to enlighten you, we must go back to the 26th of November. I explain to you now the story which only my dearest sister, Jane, knows in full. But as you may recall, the day which I refer to is that of the Netherfield Ball. I had only returned home when I was thus accosted by my mother. I hope that you will not mind my frankness when I say the speech which she gave me was not to my liking. It was through her intelligence I learned of Mr. Collins having his designs in matrimony on me."

Mr. Darcy looked extremely shocked by this, but Elizabeth continued on.

"My reaction was not unlike your own. But out of desperation, I was eager to escape receiving his addresses. My mother offered me only one alternative—if I were to be in love with somebody else. Now, my mother is a very good sort of woman, I assure you, and wants the best for us all; and I am aware that by the best, she means through consequence and salary. I was not in the right mind, I assure you. But now I must communicate the part which will give you the most pain. I lied. I said—I said that I was in love with—with—you."

Elizabeth had not realized how extremely difficult revealing the truth to Mr. Darcy would be; but she knew that it was the only correct thing to do. His astonishment yet heightened. She could see some pain in his expression; yet this did not discourage her. Ah, he was perhaps not worthy of an explanation! Yet still she gave it!

"It is true; that is what I said. I assure you that I am thoroughly ashamed of it, and that it was a gross falsehood. But it is best that you hear the truth from me. I see now the danger of keeping such things hidden. It did, however, have the desired effect at that time; and it was enough to persuade my mother to have Mr. Collins' affections take a new direction—as you can see. I thought myself uncannily clever. It was then that my mother began to—if I may be so blunt—become a matchmaker. I am afraid that this has not escaped your notice, as much as I have tried to redirect her behavior. And so it became circulated through my well-meaning mother; and so your aunt supposed what she did. I said yesterday that her suppositions were wholly without foundation; but again, I lied. I knew very well that it was through my actions that this came upon me. So, Mr. Darcy, believe me when say I have suffered for my deceit, and I hope that _that_ will give you consolation."

Mr. Darcy did not seem able to speak. He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again; searching for words. So she had not loved him then; those were the only words which had any consequence. But did she love him now? He cared not what pain had been caused to himself, what deception had occurred among others; his attention was only fixed on where Elizabeth's affections laid. He had no choice but to leave; but he could not bear to leave without her. He had determined the day before that he should never see her again; but his heart forbade it. Dearer to him than his duty and honor was Elizabeth. There had to be something said of her honesty; surely she would not have communicated such a secret that had been burdening her to someone for whom she cared nothing! He had never doubted as to his being her object; yet now his convictions faltered, and hope in its stead. Hope is a very uncertain thing; if fortune is merciful, hopes are fulfilled; but hopes are also fragile things, and even having tightest hold on them does not make them any less prone to shattering. And so Mr. Darcy, hoped, doubted, and hoped again; and was not certain if speaking was in his power.

"Your suffering does not give me consolation," he said finally; "it makes me wretched. I care not of the pain you have caused me, I care not—excuse me—of the pain you have caused your family. I care only for you."

It was now Elizabeth's turn to be astonished. Never could she have anticipated such a speech from a man whom she believed to be in every manner unfeeling! She knew not whether to be flattered or offended! She was beyond expression; she stared, colored, doubted, and was silent.

"In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."

Elizabeth did not reply. He seemed to find this sufficient encouragement to continue, and thus avowed all that he had felt and long felt for her. As he continued, his courage seemed to rise; and he was not more eloquent on the subject of tenderness than of pride. Her sense of inferiority was made evident; that he had always opposed his inclination due to family obstacles; and this he lingered on as if it were something profoundly in his favor. Elizabeth's heart hardened with the words; and she supposed she should not have expected any more from such a man! As he concluded his speech, she felt that she could no longer pity wounding him; and was fully prepared to give a ruthless account of her deeply-rooted hatred. But once again, there was the click of a door, the sound of footsteps, which deferred it all…


	20. Pain

_Author's Note:_ I swear I haven't been purposely keeping you all in suspense. It's just that this chapter is very pivotal, and I had to get it right. I kept allowing myself to run away with my fancy so I had to rewrite this about three times. I am a naughty, naughty writer. Also, I truly hope Jedi x-man Serena Kenobi doesn't die.

**Chapter Twenty: Pain**

_Pain has an element of blank; _

_It cannot recollect _

_When it began, or if there was _

_A time when it was not._

_It has no future but itself,_

_Its infinite realms contain_

_Its past, enlightened to perceive_

_New periods of pain._

—_Emily Dickinson_

Mrs. Bennet's glance was fixed on her jade green gloves as she hastily pulled them off. Her face was flushed from the exercise of walking, and Elizabeth, on the sight of her mother, was immediately paralyzed. She could not blink, move, think, breathe; and she was certain that if the sight of her mother did not end up being a mirage, she would instantaneously expire. However, her mother was no mirage, and there was no expiration of Elizabeth; though she would have infinitely preferred that alternative.

"Ah! Lizzy! You shall be extremely disappointed in me when I tell you what has happened. We were all the way to Westerham, and were beginning to walk about, when (careless me), I realized I had forgotten my—"

It was at this moment Mrs. Bennet set her gloves aside, looked up, and saw Mr. Darcy standing before her second daughter, at an alarmingly close proximity. However alarming this proximity may have been, it was anything but alarming to Mrs. Bennet. Ah! Her sly little Lizzy! She had faked a headache so that she might meet with Mr. Darcy! She had been so humble, so shy concerning the gentleman; but who could doubt the attachment now? A wide smile spread across her face, and it took all of her nerves to keep from laughing, as she exclaimed,

"Oh! Mr. Darcy! What a pleasure!" Mrs. Bennet curtseyed, and continued, "I have not interrupted anything, have I? Dear me! I should not want to interrupt. If you are in need of privacy, just say the word!"

Elizabeth was silent. What would he say? _Lie, Mr. Darcy, lie!_ However, as she had no magnificent telepathic powers, she required a stroke of good fortune for the message to reach him.

"Int—interrupted?" stuttered Mr. Darcy, slowly stepping away from Elizabeth and seeming quite discomposed, "Why—" He paused. He recalled Elizabeth's speech in her mother being a well-meaning matchmaker, and the look of sheer terror enveloping Elizabeth's face could not be mistaken.

"—No," he finished, though coloring slightly as he said so. Elizabeth was suddenly able to shift her glance, and she now looked at Mr. Darcy. What an excellent mind reader! She could have stood up and thrown her arms around him just then, for having saved her from her mother—but in such cases all love must be vain.

Mrs. Bennet did not seem entirely convinced, and she was not at all discouraged. Of course they should be embarrassed! She smiled, as she viewed this as a personal victory; she would look into wedding clothes at Westerham, and be certain of Mr. Bennet giving his consent! Joy, joy, joy! But she had to get them alone! She glanced about the room, quite forgetting what it was that she had forgotten, for it was all replaced with sheer and utter _joy_! Her dear Elizabeth; always doing what was best for her family! She would have more fine carriages than could be counted; and always able to provide for her dear Mama! How many new pieces of furniture she would be able to furnish Longbourn with!

There is a phrase which is generally well known—"Don't count your chickens before they hatch." Mrs. Bennet was directly violating this rule; but as these were her own private thoughts, and quite unheard by others (as none of whom in the room were telepathic), there was not a soul who could give this good advice to her. So after several moments of awkward silence (though it was not awkward for Mrs. Bennet, for she was wondering if they would be married with a special license), she abruptly cried,

"Well! I do believe that what I have left is in the dining parlor! I shall go and fetch it, but I am afraid that I must then beg leave, Mr. Darcy. You will understand. The others are all expecting me, and I cannot keep them waiting. Lizzy! Do oblige Mr. Darcy—it _is_ very kind of you to come here, sir—though I am sure that you will! Good little Lizzy! Now, I will be off!"

And with those parting words, Mrs. Bennet happily made her way out of the room, entirely forgetting the gloves which she had laid atop the pianoforte, and after recalling and fetching the cursed item which had been the cause of such a scene, left. Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth both carefully listened, neither speaking a word to the other, for the sounds of Mrs. Bennet leaving. Once it was safely determined that she was out of sight, Mr. Darcy turned to Elizabeth, and clutched her hand tightly in his, eagerly awaiting her words.

Elizabeth was, unfortunately for Mr. Darcy, still not in a state able to speak. Oh! What would her mother think? But it had not been said—she would not know—she could say he had come only to take his leave. But where was he going? Oh, but the truth was implied in everything! Even her mother was not so wretchedly blind. Her mother would demand every little detail, and how then could she avoid the truth? But to accept him!—Impossible!—She would despise herself for the rest of her days.

And so, through these distraught thoughts, a question was formed. Would she rather despise herself, or have everyone else despise her? It seemed an impossible question to answer! What worse, torturous decision could she have possibly been forced to choose to make? The abominable Mr. Darcy! How dare he force her to make the decision! She was very glad that she had allowed her momentary gush of gratitude go unseen, for it had sunk as quickly into hatred as it had risen. In her newfound rage, the answer was clear. With a deep breath, she said,

"In such cases as this, it is, I believe, the established mode to express a sense of obligation for the sentiments avowed, however unequally they may be returned. It is natural that obligation should be felt, and if I could feel gratitude, I would now thank you. But I cannot—I have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly. I am sorry to have occasioned pain to any one. It has been most unconsciously done, however, and I hope will be of short duration. The feelings which, you tell me, have long prevented the acknowledgment of your regard, can have little difficulty in overcoming it after this explanation."

"And this is all the reply which I am to have the honor of expecting!" cried Mr. Darcy, though clearly shocked; "I might, perhaps, wished to be informed why, with so little endeavor at civility, I am thus rejected. I have faced the disapproval of my family, which has been so openly demonstrated; yet you feel I am at least, am not owed any sign of respect! But it is of small importance."

"I might as well enquire," hissed she, pulling her hand away, "why, with so evident a design of offending and insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me against your will, against your reason, and even against your character? Was not this some excuse for incivility, if I was uncivil? But I have other provocations. You know I have. Had not my own feelings decided against you, had they been indifferent, or had they even been favorable, do you think that any consideration would tempt me to accept the man, who has been the means of ruining, perhaps for ever, the happiness of a most beloved sister?"

She then continued to explain the extensive history of her dislike; how he had betrayed Mr. Wickham, and destroyed her sister's prospects. The latter he did not attempt to deny, which only infuriated Elizabeth further; and he spoke with disdain and sarcasm of the former! It was appalling; and she could no longer feel the least bit sorry for having to pain him.

Had she produced a dagger and driven it into Mr. Darcy's heart, it would have felt like a gentle caress compared to the torture which he now endured! He was angry; teasing, teasing Elizabeth! The very pronunciation of the name 'Wickham' injected venom into his veins. Ah, the abominable man! He could not meet her eye; it was impossible to do so. _He_ realized her sentiments, and was no longer going to bear it. He quickly stood and left with only apologizing, sardonically, for having taken up so much of her time. His pain blotted out his surroundings and his anger, his thoughts. He leapt upon his black stallion that had been so patiently waiting for him, and rode off as was within his power; the wind whipped his hair against his face, but he hardly noticed. It was convenient that it was only a desolate country lane, for he surely would not have taken care had others been on the road.

Elizabeth was relieved when he left at last. She thought that she could be happy—could at least have that long, interrupted period of reflection which had been all she had ever wanted—but found that no such blitheness was to be found. She was disappointed, somehow; its reason was buried deep within her heart, and beyond her comprehension. She did not regret her decision, yet there was an acute stinging in her soul that seemed to only grow more powerful.

The pianoforte looked as inviting as ever, and now Elizabeth was immediately drawn to it. She began to play—it was a simple, mournful tune, with a little delicate melody. Slowly, tears formed in her eyes; she tried to blink them away, but soon they increased fifty-fold. They rolled down her cheeks, with her continuing to play, her fingers softly touching the ivory keys, sobbing quietly and the tears splashing against her fingers. Soon she had no reserves in her weeping; she laid her head against the keys, and began to sob violently, her chest heaving, her breaths shallow.

Mr. Darcy was beginning to become slightly more conscious. It was not that his pain had decreased, but that he was now more able to tolerate it. If he had only left it at what it had been the day before! Her sweet, surprised girlish glance was so much more becoming than her contemptuous glares and words designed to hurt. As he walked into Hunsford, he had been dizzy with anticipation; not anticipation for her refusal, but for her acceptance. It had hardly ever occurred to him before then that she would deny him. Yet so she had! Why had he not considered the possibility? He felt like such a fool.

The door to the drawing room flew open, with Mrs. Bennet rushing in as if she were a mother bear coming to protect her young.

"What did he say? What did he say? Oh, my Lizzy!" she cried, throwing her arms around her wailing daughter.

Elizabeth cried harder.

"Dear me! Dear me! Oh, love, tell me!"

"I can't say," replied Elizabeth at length in a weak, strained voice. She struggled free from her mother's embrace and stood from the piano stool, striding away quickly, though not composedly. Mrs. Bennet was no scholar on human behavior, but she was insightful enough to not follow her daughter and nag her. Mrs. Bennet was crestfallen, though for an entirely different reason than Elizabeth; no wedding, no carriages, no engagement! Oh! Why had she ever given Mr. Darcy a second chance with her daughter? It was clear that he did not want to marry her.

Elizabeth had realized the perverseness of her mother appearing just then; and she became angry with her. Of course, Mrs. Bennet had been eagerly awaiting happy news, and had probably meandered about the garden till she heard Mr. Darcy leave. How dare she meddle! Elizabeth bore every terrible feeling all at once; it was overwhelming. Her head pulsated, her heart pounded; as if her mind could no longer bear it, so it had become physical pain. Her subconscious led her to her favorite trail through the wood; she knew that there she could be alone.

As she stared up towards the sky, the sun shone in her eyes, and she quickly looked down. As her eyes refocused to the dimmer light in the shade of the wood, a tree materialized before her; a large, handsome weeping willow. She was drawn towards it. There was something very melancholy about it—in its drooping branches and subdued colors—and she immediately comprehended why its name was suitable. She settled herself beneath it, burying her head into the skirt of her dress, so that she might muffle her cries.


	21. Returning to Rosings

**Chapter Twenty-One: Returning to Rosings**

Mr. Darcy hadn't intended to return. He had fixed on riding till he was quite hopelessly lost; he had always found that such rides cleared his mind, though caused quite a panic among those he had left at home. But even so, there he was, his stallion approaching Rosings at a gentle trot. He had been furious with his aunt—angrier than he had ever been at Elizabeth even when she mercilessly insulted him—but some of his resentment had begun to gave way. It wasn't a completely ridiculous supposition, as Elizabeth herself had explained how such an idea had gotten into her head. And even _he_ had been violently opposed to allowing his feelings to overcome his duty to his family initially, and his aunt, with none of these partial sentiments towards Elizabeth, could not be expected to behave similarly. He could not entirely pardon her, but there was at least some justification—enough that he could face her.

He leapt off his horse, with the stable before him, as the stable boy approached. The horse was led off, and Darcy slowly strode towards Rosings Hall on foot. The house always looked very handsome at dusk from his vantage point; the sun illuminated its windows, and with a backdrop of golden and pink streaks behind it, he thought the prospect almost equal to one at Pemberley. His favorite garden was a little ways off, only halfway across the lawn from where he stood; throughout his annual visits to Rosings at Easter, he had always found walks about it very invigorating (though certainly second to wild, aimless rides on horseback).

The pain of rejection still coursed through his veins, though it had considerably lessened. Any anger that he had for Elizabeth he believed to be almost entirely gone, as he found Mr. Wickham a much more suitable object of his contempt.

The garden was very well-tailored; it was surely how everyone wished their garden to appear; but it had something wanting. There was something of wildness and disarray which was not present, and which made it all seem superficial. Superficial was generally the best adjective that Mr. Darcy could think of when describing Rosings; that, and 'gaudy' was another favorite of his. He attempted to direct his thoughts to something _not_ related to Elizabeth; but it seemed that every topic led back to it. The flowers, the twilight, the surrounding wood; it all screamed 'Elizabeth' to him; would he ever be able to look at his aunt's home as he had before that fateful day?

He had decided on intently studying his boots, as there was nothing much related to Elizabeth about them. They certainly were not as lovely as she was. He infinitely would have preferred her company to that of his boots. But what was he thinking now? Madness! Comparing Elizabeth to boots? What kind of reverie was that! He looked up, and when his eyes had focused on his surroundings, realized that he was not alone.

"How do you do, Mr. Darcy?" asked Anne politely with a slight nod of the head.

Mr. Darcy returned the gesture, and replied that he was perfectly well—which was quite a lie. Though he had known Anne since infancy, he had never truly had any confidence with her. Knowing one nearly all of one's life does not necessarily inspire intimacy; his and Mr. Wickham's relationship was a prime example. He examined his intended—her slight features, her grave countenance, her pale skin. He had never truly imagined himself married to her; he was a little ashamed to admit that she had never meant anything to him. If only she were Elizabeth instead! But there he went again—comparing what was and what could never be; and though never was a very strong word, he did think it appropriate.

"It is a little chilly," Mr. Darcy remarked after some silence, "should you not be inside? You do not want to catch cold."

"Oh," responded Anne unconcernedly, "the fresh air will do me well. If Mrs. Jenkinson or Mama knew, they should be furious, of course." She then blushed furiously and looked away.

"I shan't tell them you were here, then," Mr. Darcy assured her. She had not the power to look at him again, but he could discern a faint smile from his reply.

"Will you sit with me?" Anne asked with some boldness regained, gesturing to a nearby bench. Mr. Darcy acquiesced. She always spoke very softly, and seemed as if it took all of her energy to utter a syllable. It reminded him vaguely of his sister, Georgiana; she always acted so around those whom she was not intimately acquainted with; though during tête-à-têtes with his sister she was always quite lively and spirited. It was the latter side of her which reminded him of Elizabeth—but then he remembered that he mustn't think of Elizabeth.

They sat, with darkness slowly descending upon Rosings. As he glanced back at the great house, he saw all of the windows aglow from the lighted candles, and a slight crescent moon hovering above it. Mr. Darcy very much wished to be left alone; but he pitied Anne. He always had, ever since she had taken ill; he was sorry that any partial feelings he may have had towards her were out of sympathy, and not true compassion; but so it was.

"You know, Mr. Darcy," Anne ventured bravely after a short coughing fit proceeded by more silence; "Our families have always been great friends. Mama and Aunt Anne were always so close—but of course, you know that. What I mean is—well—_we_ have never been great friends. Is it not—well—peculiar?"

"I suppose one may call it peculiar. But as we are both so very different, it is not so much of a wonder."

"We are very different, aren't we?" replied Anne, her voice trailing off till it blended in with the serenity of the night. "It is becoming quite dark. I must return to the house, or I shall not be able to see. Good night, Mr. Darcy."

"Good night, Miss de Bourgh."

Mr. Darcy listened carefully to the light footsteps of Anne's departure; and when he was certain she was well out of sight, quitted the garden himself. As he ascended the steps which led to the front entrance of Rosings, he supposed he should have offered to escort her; but he was quite absorbed in his own thoughts, and had only been half-listening to the small sort-of conversation which Anne had attempted at. He knew that he would not be able to sleep at all that night; how could he possibly? The occurrences of that day would certainly be impressed into his memory forever. He would look back on it as the worst day of his entire life—and he supposed that he should have been relieved it was almost over. Even then, though, it was all only a memory; yet it seemed much more vivid than one.

As he contemplated this, he once again crossed paths with another. It was his aunt. She seemed very pleased to see him, which was quite a difference from the last time they had encountered each other.

"Darcy," she said, neither gently nor scornfully, "Where have you been all day?"

"Riding," he stated matter-of-factly, which was not so far from the truth.

"Hmm—you do fancy long rides, don't you? Your mother was very fond of horses too, you know. When we were girls there was a white mare named—well! I suppose that is not important. But I do wish to speak with you."

Mr. Darcy followed his aunt into the drawing room and she invited him to sit. She did not seem angry, which was a relief. Whenever she mentioned his mother, she was certain to be in very good humor.

"I do believe, Darcy, I owe you an apology," she began. This was especially astonishing to him, as he had never believed apologies within her power.

"Of course you know what I allude to; you have always been bright. But I must say I am heartily sorry for supposing you were engaged to that poisonous Bennet girl. Certainly, it must have been quite detrimental to you for me to have even _supposed_ it possible. But I have since come to a right way of thinking; it has only ever been a fanciful idea of those Bennets, who for some reason thought it uncannily clever to mention it to me. _Why_, I have no idea. You know, I shouldn't have expected any better from country folk like them. And Elizabeth Bennet! I had always known there was something distrustful about her; always lacking proper manners. And she is not even handsome! I am quite shocked now at my supposing you could ever fancy her. Terrible, dreadful girl; pretended to be quite appalled by my confrontation when she is certainly the very cause of my being deceived!"

Mr. Darcy, though having been recently exposed to a dose of Elizabeth's lack of good manners himself, found that such comments did not flatter his vanity. In spite of some natural resentment, he still had some warm feelings for her; and all of his love for her easily forgave her remarks—even though his head knew he ought to forget her, and had to.

"Indeed, you are quite forgiven," interrupted Mr. Darcy, not particularly wishing her speech to be drawn out any longer.

"I am glad we are friends again. I feared that you had left for good when I didn't see you at all today. Fitzwilliam will be glad to know you shall stay a little longer."

Mr. Darcy attempted to seem pleased, and then excused himself, declaring that he was very tired. There could have been nothing further from the truth as his latter comment, for his head still swirled and spun with ideas which would keep him conscious throughout the night. He fancied some liquor might do him good; and then perhaps he would write a letter to his sister. Writing letters was another excellent way of relieving stress. In fact, Mr. Darcy perhaps thought he might be able to get over his rejection tolerably soon, as it seemed that there were many things one could do which relieved stress.


	22. From Spring till Christmas

_Author's Note: _Sorry I've been neglecting this fic, but it just isn't really doing the trick for me anymore. I had a lot more planned for this, but it just isn't really satisfying my writing whims. I have a vague idea of another fic that I might do, but I don't know quite yet. But I feel bad leaving you all hanging, so I'm going to add an ending, in the form of a diary entry from Elizabeth; a little lame, I know, but I suppose it will give you some closure.

**Chapter Twenty-Two: From Spring till Christmas**

December 27, 1812

Last night my writing was interrupted when my father came upon me at my writing desk. As may be recalled, I was recounting the events of the past year or so in honor of this lovely diary for a Christmas gift. I believe I ended with April, when we all left Kent, and I must say that I was quite thankful for our departure.

For the next month or so, I was idle, and all relatively uneventful; aside from the monthly balls at Meryton, and occasionally dining with the officers, there was little to do (though this did seem to amuse Kitty and Lydia sufficiently). Admittedly, after I had mulled over Fitzwilliam's letter for a period, I found that being in Wickham's company gave me much more pain than pleasure. Therefore, when it was made known that the regiment was to remove to Brighton, I was overjoyed; though my two youngest sister's spirits considerably sunk.

After unsuccessfully attempting to convince my father to allow us to all go to Brighton, Kitty and Lydia spent their days moping about the house. Lydia whined that she had a great many friends in the officers and their wives; but apparently none of them liked _her_ well enough to invite her to go to Brighton. Kitty protested that the same was so with her; and then they both began to abuse our trip to Kent for Easter, as they have ascertained that had we not gone, they would have had more opportunities to become intimate with the officers and their families, and thus have received the said invitations. I believe that this is ludicrous—and I am sad to report that they have not seemed to become any less silly these past months.

When the aforementioned period of time passed, my dear Aunt and Uncle Gardiner came and stayed with us for a fortnight or so. They invited me on a tour to the Lakes, along with Lydia, as they believed the air would do her some good (as she was far worse off than Kitty, who could control herself tolerably well by this point). Of course, we both acquiesced. Unfortunately, sometime after that Lydia and I learnt that our tour would have to be delayed, and its extent curtailed, due to Uncle having business; and we would be able to go no further than Derbyshire. At the time I was excessively disappointed, but I must say that I am now very gracious to whomever it was that demanded my uncle's attention for business.

Upon our reaching Derbyshire, Aunt Gardiner was adamant on visiting the little town of Lambton, as that is where she spent all of her girlhood: and so we obliged her by making it a destination; and it so happens that Lambton is but five miles from Pemberley. Aunt and Uncle Gardiner were mad to see it, and even Lydia admitted curiosity to see the place of which she had heard so much (undoubtedly from the poisonous Mr. Wickham). I was quite understandably opposed to the scheme, but on learning from the chambermaid that the family was absent for the summer, decided that my curiosity superseded my caution; and to Pemberley we went. One can imagine my surprise upon meeting Fitzwilliam there! But he was such an altered creature that neither Lydia nor I could believe it; and there was no denying his proposal for my meeting his sister.

So we went on while I was at Lambton, visiting each other quite frequently: and I now know what suspicions I must have raised! However, their suspicions were not in vain, for on my final day in Derbyshire, Fitzwilliam called on me; and what did he do, but propose again! I did not think that it would be in his power to do so a second time; the action defied all pride that I had supposed him guilty of, and therefore I could not but give him a favorable answer. I admit that I did not love him then as well as I do now; but he was quite obviously overjoyed. My aunt and uncle protested that they had supposed we had been secretly engaged all along, and even Lydia was not so very surprised although I had undoubtedly abused him to her before, which made me rather embarrassed for my accidental indiscretion. I then learnt that Fitzwilliam had planned to reunite Jane and Charles all along, upon my insisting it; and so, of their being thrown together once more, the outcome was infinitely more favorable than their previous acquaintance of the summer before.

I admit that I could not have predicted a better outcome for it all; and on that fateful night of the Netherfield ball after I had spoken with my mother, I told myself that I would soon laugh it off: and laugh it off I finally do.

Finis


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